Dragon of Wales
by Vader'sMistress
Summary: One simple event in 1502 changes the course of history. Response to Mimi's challenge.
1. Thornbush

There is one religious truth and that is everything in this universe exists for the good and benefits of themselves or others. There is no such thing as benevolence, only greed and hunger and those too weak enough to seek it.

Henry VII took the crown from the thornbush where he had found it and placed it on his head.

Everyone cheered for their new King.

"Long Live Henry the Seventh!" They cheered.

"Long Live Henry Tudor!"

But he was Henry Tudor no longer. He was Henry the Seventh, last of the Lancasters, first of a new dynasty, the Tudors.

This was just the start …

* * *

*On Saturday, 2 April 1502, Arthur, Prince of Wales, the elder son of the King of England, Henry VII, died at Ludlow Castle on the Welsh borders, aged just 15. The young prince, married less than five months before at St Paul's Cathedral to the Spanish princess, Katherine of Aragon, had first felt unwell at Shrovetide in early February. On Easter day (27 March), his condition rapidly worsened, 'at which season [there] grew and increased upon his body … the most pitiful disease and sickness that with no sore and great violence had battled and driven [itself] in [to] the singular parts of him inward.'  
Finally, 'that cruel and fervent enemy of nature, the deadly corruption, did utterly vanquish and overcome the pure and friendful blood, without all manner of physical help and remedy.'

Arthur struggled to get up. The fever was killing him. Not five months since he married Catalina and already he was failing on his first promise to love her until the end their days, grow old together and have a plethora of children and grandchildren …

His vision faded as sleep overtook him and then he ceased to exist …

* * *

***The Children of Henry VIII by John Guy**


	2. Chapter 1

The elegantly clad court functionary looked down at the ragged Prince of Wales' servant who had asked anxiously if the King or Queen were in residence. When he said no, he insisted and finally the King's majordomo let him in.

Henry and Elizabeth looked at the young man, anticipation written in their eyes.

"What brings you here, we beg of you good sir?"

Elizabeth gripped his hand as they awaited hi answer.

The servant opened his mouth to breathe but only a tired sigh escaped his lips. He forced himself to stand still, despite his weariness. He'd ridden four days, no sleep except a few naps here and there but he hadn't had a good night sleep since he left the Welsh Marshes in a rush.

"Your Majesties," he started and hearing his grievous tone, the King and Queen braced themselves for the worst. "your son –the Prince has …"

Elizabeth sobbed, she had trained herself for this moment. Since her youngest sons had nearly been taken by the plague.

"… praise be to the Lord Jesus, survived the fever."

"What?!" Elizabeth opened her eyes in astonishment.

"Go on! Answer the Queen!"

"His Highness, Prince Arthur, has survived the fever, Your Grace."

A huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She fell to her knees and cried all the saints names and thanked the lord. "Oh good Lord" She cried. "The Holy mother." She said. The Virgin Mary who sees it all and was the protector of all desperate mothers, "Praise be to you!" She cried, who had saved her little baby Arthur. "Thank you!" She said one last time and after a long time of hysterics, she raised herself up and thanked the messenger.

They offered him the best lodgings in her husband's palace and after he had settled, they invited him to dine privately with them.

Until now she considered herself the most fortunate woman in England, but he had made her the most fortunate woman in Christendom. Two times she had nearly lost hope, two times the Lord had answered, showing her that He was still there. Now that her eldest and favorite son had survived, she felt the happiest woman in England, hell! Earth!

Nowhere on God's green Earth, was there a joy greater than hers.

She considered herself the luckiest woman in all England.

* * *

Henry thanked the messenger and returned to bed to his wife. It had been a long and excruciating week for all of them. Nearly two if they counted the pain and desperation their daughter in law who thanks to the Lord blessing would remain so, must have felt, not knowing whether her husband would live or not.

They must be thankful. This was the Lord's doing and it was marvelous to their eyes.

"We will donate six golden statues to every Church in Yorkshire. You will go there with me. I believe it is time for a third progress North."

"But Henry!" She exclaimed, surprised that he'd bothered to ask for her opinion at all, "you've never asked me before. How will this sit with your Privy Council, with your mother?" The indomitable Lady Margaret Beaufort, the King's Mother, was not a woman you could ignore and she was always included in all her son's decisions. It was highly unusual that she wasn't but even more that Henry asked her! Her of all people for her council.

Who would have thought? Thought Edward IV's daughter with slight amusement. Perhaps it was a good thing that sickness had befallen her darling son and the Lord had nearly taken him, sending them into this brief period of almost-mourning so they could learn their lesson and grow closer –as man and wife.

She knew it was her destiny to marry. Princesses married for their countries' sake for alliances. But she never thought it would have been the Lady Margaret Stanley nee Beaufort's son of all people –who had won the battle against Richard in Bosworth field, against all odds- whom she would marry.

He'd summoned her the first day to the palace, looking splendid in her silver and blue dress despite the simplicity in which she and her younger sister Cecily were dressed. He was dressed more lavishly although his face was so simple, his expression hardened by pain of loss. No doubt, he remembered all the men who'd been lost that fateful day in Bosworth. How could she ever love this man? She thought the, but as time went by she found that he was no courtier. He was wily as fox and had the sharp wit and wisdom of an owl; he would never disappoint her, he would stay loyal to her no matter what and he would give her strong, healthy children. It was just not in his nature to show his feelings. He'd grown in an atmosphere of danger and by now he was used to it. Old habits die hard, and Henry was a man of habit, extremely pious -although more practical than his mother- and highly observant of the laws of the country and his Church.

She was happy for this opportunity and when he insisted for a second time, his voice bringing her back from the present, seeing his pleasant face for the first time in months since their son left for Ludlow, she nodded her head and said with a big smile on her face –"Yes. I will go with you Henry. I am honored to, Your Majesty."

She kissed his lips with deep reverence. He surrounded her thin waist with his rough hands and lay her down …

* * *

Arthur thought he was going to drown. He was too weak to get up but too strong and bored to remain in this bed.

*Arthur was considered to be a fit and healthy teenager before he fell ill. He was always out riding, or practicing his sword lessons with his tutors. His brothers boasted they were better, especially Henry but anyone could see that was not true.

Arthur was everything that a Renaissance Prince ought to be. He was handsome, brave –but cautious, loving, empathetic to his people's plight –he always immersed himself in the council business. He wanted to prove to his father that he was an apt ruler as he and so far the people of Wales sang nothing else but praises of him. But above all, Arthur was learned. Truly learned. He was patient, he was eager to learn. He never questioned his tutors as Harry and Edmund did, but he never swallowed everything he was given in is lessons, either. There was always another explanation, another point of view, he would tell to his favorite sister, Margaret –who sadly had not gotten along with his wife as the rest of his siblings did. And as future King he had to see every point of view, no matter how boring and frustrating the task was.

His back was propped against the pillows. The servants were hounding him, asking if he was alright, did he feel alright, was he tired, did he needed something, water, food, wine? Arthur spread his arms and cried enough, but they kept on coming. His father's physician did not leave him alone either.

He asked to see Catalina again but she still refused to see him.  
Until you get better –her letter said.

Damn her! Damn her stubborn Spanish pride. This was his house! He was her husband! But she was too stubborn and proud like her mother; she thought herself better than him and everyone but she'd been brought down to her feet when she received a scare last month with the near death of her husband. Now that he was better she refused to see him until he followed all of the doctor's orders.

"How long is this going to last?" He asked her maid and Duena who came into his chamber, keeping their distance from him. Fear registered on their faces as he began to cough. No blood showed this time but just in case …

"Su Alteza-"

"Her Highness."

"Her Highness has given us explicit orders we are no to speak nor see you until you have fully recovered and since it seems you are still weak and unwilling to follow the Doctors' orders, well, we shouldn't bother at all, should we?" Said her Duena, a smile returning to her face as the insolent little boy nipped his lip and darted to his wardrobe, ignoring his physician and the servants' protest, and put on his night-robe.

He gave a sharp retort to Dona Elvira. "Listen Dona Elvira, Madame, this is not Spain, this is England, and I have tolerated my wife's behavior long enough. Now you will tell her to come here or I will got straight into her room and sick or not, so help me God. I do not care. I will see my wife!"

Dona Elvira gasped. How dare he speak to her like that? Why she would teach this little brat a lesson.

But before Dona Elvira did anything to jeopardize her mistress even further; Maria de Salinas gripped Elvira's hand and gave her a sharp look that forced the woman into silence. A feat no one had accomplished –except her mistress when she did not lack the will.

"Very well then, if His Highness insists-"

"I do. Take me to her." He said firmly and Dona Elvira did.

Catalina was waiting just as he suspected she would in the solar, downstairs. "Your Highness." She greeted, paying her obeisance, the rest of her Spanish ladies, including her chaplain, friar Diego, bowed their heads low for their Prince.

"My lady."

"How good of you to join us. We were enjoying a fun evening, discussing poetry and music. We were also praying for your health. I trust you feel alright now."

"I do. My lady, would you mind if-"

"Of course I would not." She turned to her ladies and the friar and said with a commanding tone –"Leave us."

She shifted her gaze back to Arthur after they were finally alone. "So, you are finally awake and walking I can see. I am glad to see that. The treatment worked perfectly."

"Treatment, what treatment?"

"Why, the treatment I prescribed you of course. Do you think I was going to let your physicians tax themselves with you? Poor men, I think your father's most trusted physician, already has them working to the bone and you are not exactly a good person to work with."

"You planned this." He said. Of course! Why didn't he think of it? Stupid, stupid, he hit himself on the head.

She came closer and linked brought his hand to her belly. "You might be dull sometimes, but that doesn't mean I will cut you any slack but thing will have to change now that there is a Prince on the way."

His eyebrows rose. "You … you … you …a-are with child?"

She nodded. He withdrew his hand and jumped from joy, his robe falling to the floor. He could barely contain his excitement and asked his wife to join him, when she hesitated he noted he was bare-chested and his cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

"My lady I am deeply-"

"Shh," Catalina said putting two fingers to his lips. "It's alright. I like you better this way." Then she kissed him before he would start another endless sermon about proper behavior and morality.

* * *

It was a day of rejoicing in England. A son was born to the couple. It was the year of our Lord 1503, three weeks after he'd been Christened and his mother churched. He was christened with the name of Arthur Henry for his father and grandfather.

She let him chose the name but he promised her that he would make it up to her. When they had a girl, he vowed, she could chose any name she wanted –provided it passed the approval of his parents and his grandmother. The indomitable Lady Margaret and Countess of Richmond.

"You think she will approve of me?"

"I think she already has." He answered, taking the rattle from Artie. He began crying. Catalina took it from him and gave it back to Artie.

"Do not do that to him, it makes him angry. He is too stubborn like your grandmother."

"I'd say he's stubborn as you." She gave him a look but it soon vanished as they both laughed. "I think I married another Margaret Beaufort which makes me worry how this little one is going to turn out with both strong women as his mentors."

"Do not forget my mother, Isabel, Queen of Castilla." She said underlining her mother's title.

"I do not. You remind us endlessly-"

"As the son and heir to you after your father, God forbid, passes, it will be your son who becomes the unquestionable Prince of Wales."

"Fancy that. Another Prince of Wales." He said uneasily as he pronounced his present title. He was not keen on wearing the crown and he gave Catalina a warning glance but she continued.

"What a Prince he would be!" She exclaimed, rocking her son back and forth then kissed his forehead and relaxed her arms as he closed his eyes and fell asleep. "He will be the most loved boy in all of England. Everyone from your brothers, Henry, Edmund, and Edward will come to look at him and bow their heads in respect."

"Of course they will." Arthur said, gazing down at their sleeping son. "It would be hard not to fall in love with this little chum." He tickled the baby's nose but he was fast asleep, Catalina's soft melody had knocked him out. She had a way with children … It reminded him of his mother –who was blessed yet another child. She had begun her lie in and was scheduled to give birth in the next month or so.

His father no longer prayed for a boy. He had boys, what he could use to further his ambitions and promote England's interests abroad is daughters. Margaret was marrying the King of Scotland, Mary … who knew? Catalina was pushing for a Spanish match while her sister –and newly turned rival of her parents –namely her father- was pushing for another match with another one of his siblings that involved her eldest daughter, Eleanor, Archduchess of Austria.

"I am certain you will make sure no one forgets."

"Forgets what? That our son will turn into the most dashing, valiant prince as his father and grandfather?"

"My dear your English is improving, I hardly hear my lady's accent anymore, though I am fortunate not to burden myself with complain. My lady's accent is what first attracted me to her person?"

She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. Calling for her maidservant she gave her son to him and neared Arthur. She asked him provocatively. "Only my accent? Is that all that attracted my lord to my person?"

"No, not all." He said coming closer so their faces were barely an inch apart then he kissed her lips hungrily, sucking all the air out of her.

Arthur was nine months younger than his wife, his father had warned him all about enjoying unlimited sex but Arthur didn't care anymore. He disobeyed his father once and he thanked God he did, for if they didn't they wouldn't have Artie.

She had made him the happiest man on earth. And he wanted to express his gratitude by giving her what their bodies desired –and had abstained from since her churching- the most.

* * *

His lip curled even more scornfully. Arthur had it all now, riches, a son – a son that should have been his –he told himself and her. Catalina.

What did he have?

Nothing.

"Catalina, sister," he said too forced, forcing another smile as the nurse handed her his nephew. "You have made us all very proud." He gazed down at the baby, Catalina's inviting look relaxed him a bit.

He could not help but smile. The boy was nothing like her, he was the same as Arthur –as he had been from tales he heard from his lady grandmother when he was born.

Yet the baby possessed his sister's eyes. His intended bride –he grimaced. He could not help but give another smile as he gazed up at his mother.

He may only be eleven but he was wiser than boys his age. Indeed, he boasted to his mother that Margaret Beaufort said he was smarter than the rest of his siblings and more sharp-witted; including Arthur who was hia older brother and the Crown Prince.

Katherine, as she called herself now after her parents named her their Ambassador after they received word of Philip's ambitions to covet both the Crowns of Castile and Aragon since Juana had been made heir of both; did not see what was behind those cold grey eyes. Tudor eyes –people called them.

She didn't have a problem with them, it was just the way these Tudors looked at their wives –you would think they thought of them as property, and they were always highly suspicious.  
Arthur boasted he was not so but the vast majority of the times he was and it worried her.

"There, there," she rubbed her nose against her baby' soft pinky little nose. Thank God he smiled, wiggled, and not afraid to sow what he thought and what he felt. He was as his father and his Plantagenet ancestors, a true Yorkist all the way in his appearance, but he had her eyes and that made him more important in Katherine's heart.

She kissed his forehead and willed him to silence, singing a melody. She convinced Henry to join him. She found the boy was a good singer, he did not sing bad as he often said. He was really good and she almost wished, sinning in her envy for gifts Henry possessed and her husband did not, that Arthur could sing that well.

Alas, God had given him other … talents.

She flustered.

Henry saw it and cocked his head, raising his eyebrows inquiringly, asking her what was wrong. Nothing –she said but she couldn't help but smile wider as she thought of the previous night.

* * *

The Queen Elizabeth gave birth to a healthy baby girl.

They named her Catherine after the Princess of Wales and because she was born so beautiful –far more than Mary, and as a result the Princess of Wales was chosen to be the child's two godmothers while her husband and the Archbishop of Canterbury were chosen to be her godfathers.

This would be Elizabeth of York's last child. She suffered a relapse but soon recovered. The family was overjoyed. They had been blessed by God and His angels.

Henry's destiny was written not in the stars but in the children he'd sired his wife and in their children.

Margaret would be fourteen in November. With her marriage by proxy completed, it was only a matter of time before her progress to Scotland started.

A sudden sadness gripped his heart as he thought of his eldest child and arguably his favorite after Arthur and Edmund, marrying. Even if it was somewhere close, he couldn't fathom seeing her go. But he must be strong. He was the King of England after all and she was the official Queen of Scotland –something that had caused her younger siblings, Harry, Edmund, and Edward much envy since she now held precedence over them. It was what was required. People of their lineage were bound to obey and serve, their destinies were written years before their cradle. And Margaret was his daughter as much as she was his grandmother's daughter –she would make him and England proud.

* * *

**Taken from Children of Henry VIII by John Guy. Check my flickr album for visuals. Katherine is played by Katie McGraw and MDK as she gets older.**


	3. Chapter 2

"Are you going to be my new mommy if my mummy dies?"

"What?" Katherine asked, startled by her sister in law's question. Arthur guessed what this was about and not to distress his mother any further, tugged her sleeve, and once she leaned forward he whispered in her ear.

Understanding showed on her face and she excused herself from the Queen's presence.

Elizabeth, equally startled by her daughter's question, asked her. "Why do say that?"

"Catalina, the Princess of Wales, my brother's wife. If you die is she going to be my mother?"

"What? Why do you say that?" She repeated once again, appalled that she could think such things, and at such a tender age!

"Who told you that? Sweetheart, tell me. Please," she begged, the usual warmth in her voice gone "Who said that to you?"

She looked down at her feet, ashamed then gazed back up at her mother. "Harry." It came in one whisper, barely heard by anyone except her mother and little Arthur who was sitting next to his grandmother. His mind in another place, in another time; immersed in the legends and tales of King Arthur and his knights by Sir Thomas Malory.

"Harry? Little Harry? Your nephew?"

"No, not that Harry. Harry, my brother."

"Why did he say that to you? Were you intruding on his lessons again my little sweet cheeks?"

She didn't like it when her mother called her sweet cheeks, it made her feel little and … powerless. "It was Harry's fault really," she told her mother. "He said that I could not play with his toys, that those were boys toys and that I should play with my dolls and be observant of God as all women are."

"You should, as a woman and as a daughter of the noble House of Tudor, it is your responsibility to oversee your royal duties so you can set an example to your people. Remember we are the first family in England, everyone looks up to us."

"But mama, I do not want that. I want …"

"Yes?" She inquired.

"I do not know what I want, but I don't want to play with girls and their silly dolls and roll dice, that I do know." She said and Elizabeth sighed.

Her daughter was just as determined as her husband and she had the mean streak of Lady Margaret Beaufort, her mother in law.

"Sweetheart, we cannot all get what we want. We must settle and find comfort in what God gave us."

"Did you tell yourself that when King Richard slaughtered those two little boys in the tower?"

Elizabeth didn't answer. Catherine remained with her arms crossed against her chest, waiting for the answer.

"I do not know, to be honest I do not remember much of that dark period. Now go join your sister, it is time you should start sewing, as a royal Princess, you must be skilled in every area, more so than the daughters of the other noble houses. Now go." She kissed her daughter's forehead and watched her go.

She was a free spirit, that one.

Elizabeth sighed, she wished she could be.

"What are you reading now little one?" She asked wheeling around, her grandson was reading a different book.

*"Petrarch's Ascent of Mount Ventor. He equates his struggles to climb the mountain with man's constant struggle to obtain virtue and God's love. He rejects most of the classical writers, says they are frauds and heretics and their only gift for humanity was their use of rhetoric." He said, more to himself than to Elizabeth.

"Oh." Elizabeth said, wishing she had read something of that new humanist current so she could engage in conversation with her grandson. "Did you get tired of your namesake too soon?"

"No, I finished it already." He said. While you and Catherine were yapping. He thought but his calm face obscured his emotions.

"So soon?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Here was an area they could both talk. "Well and did you like it? What did you think?"

"It's all well, lady grandmother." He said then put his book down and looked up at her. "You don't have to pretend. I know this is not your strong point, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. Some people have a love for art, others for cooking, other for sowing and knitting, others for books, you just happen to be those of that special kind, the kind no one talks about but is always present, molding us, shaping us until we can discover our true selves and reach our true potential."

She was surprised to find hear such wisdom –from the mouth of a three year old.

"My Lord, dear child you are truly precocious." Her mother said, stealing the words right out of her mouth as she came into the room, holding Elizabeth and Catherine's hands.

Catherine had the face that she didn't want to be with her, but kept her mouth shut since she knew how much she would hurt her mother if she disrespected her grandmother.

Arthur and Elizabeth paid their obeisance and bowed their heads low to the older woman who, if fortune had it, would still be reigning as Queen supreme with her sons as the heirs instead of this boy.

"Mother."

"Daughter." Elizabeth Wydeville said, she let go of her youngest granddaughters and came forward, kneeling before her great-grandson. She did not believe herself to be so old. She still had the vitality of her youth and people said that she looked the same as when she was Queen.

Flatterers but their words brought some comfort. They made her remember the days when it was just her and Edward fighting against the world for their love. How young they were. How passionate.

Youngsters these days, they did not understand a thing. They were too ill-bred, too vulgar despite their noble lineage. They knew nothing of passion, what moved the heart, what propelled the mind and the flesh to commit such stupidities in its name.

If only she was as young and beautiful as she had been once with lineage as the one Katherine possessed, she would have been unstoppable. She was not a fool. Towards the bitter end she knew that her fall lay not in her arrogance. She was Queen, it was her duty to be so. Unlike the meek and stupid girls who succeeded her, including her daughter, she understood the duties and responsibilities that her position carried far better than anybody.

She had seen it on the Princess' eyes every time she looked at her husband, every time she left her neck exposed. The bites, the delicate marks of his fingerprints …  
He couldn't get enough of her and so she exposed that bit of bitten flesh, tilting her head, so he would see and boost his ego, every time she saw him.

"My lady." Arthur bowed his head the lowest once more as he began to speak, composing himself and recovering his stoic pose once he got rid of his fear. The former Queen and his lady's mother, always made him nervous. "I take great pleasure as you once took great pleasure in your husband's trifles, in books. Their words are powerful and the mind is in need in books as the rest of our country."

"And why is that?" She asked, liking his boldness.

"Through books knowledge can be achieved and I believe also understanding. These can cure the cancer that plagues our land."

"And what cancer is that, if I may ask my little lord?"

He was not at all offended by her coyness or her mocking tone. If he was in her position, he would act the same. "You may. In another time you bowed to one Lord and one Lord only, He was God and the true sovereign of this land but the war his chosen raged, instigated by false feelings of envy and hatred that the evil Lord seeded in them, disrupted the Lord's peace. Almost every noble family was killed, those that survived are not the same."

"And you believe books are the sole key to our country's future?"

"Nay, Madame, I do not believe it. I know so."

She burst out laughing, the others around her laughed as well, including her daughter who was always eager to please.

"You have an amazing grandchild my daughter. At this light, I can see my husband in you. They should have named you Edward. He had your same features except your hair coloring, that is entirely Wydeville."

Arthur nodded and thanked her for her praise.

"And as for you," she turned to Catherine. "do not go believing everything your older brother tells you. If you did you would end up as your mother."

"A Queen. That is no meager feat."

"Yes, well," the former Queen said crossing her arms and rising to her feet. "our Lord in Heaven had much better plans but alas" she said seeing her daughter's look of discomfort knowing she was about to speak about her lost brothers in the tower. "His will did not come to pass. Maybe you are right little lord, maybe books can do what swords never could and bring peace to our land. Though if you ask me -not that you would- I think humankind is not meant to be in peace. There will always be something to fight for, love, money, power. We are not a race that is used to peace."

"Order then." He said making her turn as she was about to leave. "If not peace then order. My father says that after order comes peace and if peace cannot be achieved by itself then perhaps the sword is much needed as the pen."

Elizabeth smiled. He spoke and looked like her Edward. Mayhap her husband's promise of a better England had been fulfilled through her daughter's grandson.

* * *

Coinciding with springtime, Eleanor Hapsburg's ship arrived to England on 21 March.

She was excited to see her husband. They had been married by proxy last Summer; the King's ambassador had stood in his place and one of her ladies in hers.

When she met him though, disappointment shown on her face that he mistook for nervousness.

He was nothing like they suggested. She liked him not but then remembering who she was, she mustered a smile and lied telling him how happy he was to be here.

His parents were very kind to her, even the King's mother. They all welcomed her with open arms and it made her feel almost guilty for being so cold to her husband in the beginning.

She finally opened the doors to her heart on the second month of their marriage and not long after she found she with child.

Margaret Beaufort was happy to have a daughter in law who for a change was willing to follow her every command and would not question her as her Aunt did at every turn she got.

* * *

Katherine was not jealous of her niece. She had given birth to another healthy boy last June. And with God's blessing, surely this one would be a boy also.

* * *

It was June 9th, the year of our Lord 1507 when she was delivered in Greenwich Palace. She would be the first of Katherine and Arthur's children to be delivered in this palace.

Katherine as usual, waited in her rooms until her reentry to the world and she could be churched. Arthur attended the Christening in her stead. The whole family was there. It was a spectacular service.

*Silver font held the water for her christening. The church was Abright with cloths and draperies embroidered with jewels and pearls. Her grandmother carried her to the Church. An archbishop –a prince of the Church- was her godfather. Her three godmothers were two King's daughters and the Queen's sisters, and her Aunt. She was named Isabella after her mother's mother. Immediately, the royal heralds came forward to proclaim her "the noble high and the noble excellent Lady of England and daughter of our noble sovereign's eldest son, Prince Arthur."

"She is beautiful." Henry exclaimed taking the child and cradling in his arms. It was an odd sight and Margaret was about to voice her disapproval when she saw how calm the child was when she was around his presence.  
She would cry and try to wrestle herself free of her parents' hold but when she was with Henry she was calm and serenaded. It was as if he held some sort of magical hold over her.

Perhaps it was her Welsh heritage. Out of all of his grandchildren, she and young Henry were the only ones born with his looks but there was something else. Something especial in Isabella that made him love her more.

Whatever it was, Henry clung to her until he realized it was time to go and put her back on her crib.

She had been so quiet at the ceremony that she was now very eager to play. Henry whispered in her ear the words 'I love you' in Welsh and then left.

As the years passed she became his favorite and known by everyone as the Welsh Rose.

* * *

***Taken from my class notes, Power and Imagination: City-States in Renaissance Italy by Lauro Martines, and Queen In Waiting by Georges MacHargue.  
**


	4. Chapter 3

*****Katherine was deeply religious -she was a member of the Third Order of St Francis of Assisi-and now it seemed that her Catholic faith was the only immutable rock -and a fashionable one- for the other ladies to copy. Mainly the Duchess of York, her niece and now sister-in-law, Eleanor Hapsburg, who, since her last miscarriage had been using her Aunt's faith to fashion herself a new image. She thought of herself the next Margaret Beaufort, the next Elizabeth Wydeville. And it hadn't taken long to know how to play the game of politics observing her Aunt, the future Queen.

On May 1508, a young man by the name of Thomas Moore, who still remained her husband's tutor even after years had passed since he'd outgrown the school room, her husband still maintained a deep friendship with the man, and when he found out that Thomas was displeased with his father's new style of management, Henry could not help but shut himself from the world.

It was so typical of her husband. When he was indecisive about something he would shut himself from the rest of the world. He was a little boy in a young adult man's body but thankfully he had Eleanor there to guide him.

Not long after Henry finally came from his self-imposed exile, he met with Thomas and tried to convince him to remain quiet on his new yet old position regarding the King's taxes. Thomas being Thomas and an idealist at heart, could not and so -with a little help- thunder struck the royal establishment.

* * *

"I do not think Sir John that your son understands the level of danger he is in. Henry loves him, he appreciates everything he's done for him and we appreciate everything he's done for our son, but he needs to change his platform. You understand that Sir John better than anybody. This will do him no good-"

Sir John lifted his hand. The Princess of Wales had spoken long enough. "I am sorry, I truly am. I never wanted things to get out of hand. Thomas …" she sighed, an amused sigh, Katherine noted. "has always been difficult. It would have been different, better, if John was my oldest son. He was always half-drunk, always babbling nonsense about something but," he said, raising his voice and getting back on topic seeing the Princess was beginning to grow frustrated. "he always had his head focused and his feet where they should be –on the ground. My late wife, may God bless her, she was such a good woman; used to say that I and John were made of wood and Thomas was made of water. Uncontrollable, unpredictable…"

"And that's the problem, Sir John. He's not supposed to be so, he is supposed to follow orders. He's been given a position many youths his age would kill for. He can't be doing this anymore, you nearly lost your life and your family would have left dispossessed the last time he pulled something like this. It cannot continue."

She rose. "It mustn't!"

"I know, I know. I will talk to Thomas today and we will reach an agreement-"

"I am not asking you Sir John." Katherine said coming closer, looking him directly in the eye. "Get. It. Done." She wheeled and walked to the door then stopped, turned and said to Sir John, "Your son is an idealist, I respect idealists but he should know that even the strongest idealists know when to compromise. He wants to lead, he wants to inspire, he must learn to follow first." Then she closed the doors and left Sir John More alone to his thoughts.

* * *

"Your little stunt could have cost us everything."

"What do you want?" Thomas asked, a little harsher than he intended.

"A reason as to why you are still here, even after I told you to leave my house and go back to your own, to your loving wife who is surely just as worried as I am for what you are doing. It's a shame she can't speak her mind for her love of you."  
"I didn't come here seeking absolution." Thomas confessed.

"Then what are you looking for?"

"Answers. I want to know why you betrayed me to His Majesty, Henry VII."

"Please stop, just stop. You and I both know what this will mean to our family. Your little tirade could have costs us everything." He gave a dry laugh. "You should consider yourself lucky the Queen is an honest and reasonable woman. She asked personally to see you, but I offered myself to talk to you instead. I said 'sure I can make my son come into his senses' but as I see you here, right now, standing before me with that piece of paper in your hands, I see I was wrong."

Thomas said nothing.

Sir John walked to him. "You don't get it do you?"

"I am doing this for the preservation of peace and justice in our realm, so justice can be fair and for all, not just for some."

"You really are a dreamer, son. You believe that all men are created equal, subjected to the same fairness and equality before the laws as your noble peers but let me tell you something, allow me to burst your bubble." He made a pregnant pause.

"The world is not fair. There is no such thing as fairness and justice in this world. As a lawyer you better than anyone know this. The law is just another excuse men of means use to get ahead. No one in this realm cares about your proposal, they like a troublemaker –you are their latest source of entertainment. As soon as the King imprisons you, no one will remember your name. Your works, your writings, everything will be forgotten." He put his hand on the back of his son's head. "That my son, is the truth." He said and without preamble he withdrew his hand and withdrew himself from the room, leaving Thomas as the Princess of Wales had left him, alone to ponder on his actions.

Sir Thomas More, newly knighted, recanted his position on the King's taxes and for this he was amply rewarded. He was not only reinstated as Prince Henry, the Duke of York and first Knight of the Order of the Garter and Lord Arthur Tudor, commonly known as Lord of Wales and also first Knight of the Order of the Garter's tutor, but also of the Princesses Elizabeth and Catherine. Henry, the Seventh of his name, and Elizabeth of York's youngest daughters.

Katherine congratulated his father personally on his level of success. "We never doubted you." She said, speaking on behalf of her husband. With another child on the way she shouldn't be doing this but she felt politics her natural calling and the reason God put her here on this land.

"You did a marvelous job, I do not believe anyone could have done the same. I am curious though, what did you say to him?"

"That my lady is my secret to keep. Let us just say" he added seeing the Princess of Wales' impassive face "that I and Thomas had a thorough discussion on the nature of man and politics and his place in the natural scheme of things."

He will not be bothering you again, was what was really said. "Good; it seems Sir Thomas has a very wise teacher for a father."

"Well, I learned from the best." He said looking meaningfully at her.

* * *

Katherine gave birth to her fourth child in April 21, 1509. The event that was supposed to be marked with joy was marked with sorrow.

On that same day, the patriarch and founder of their most glorious dynasty, the Tudor dynasty, lay dead. The bells that began chiming for the arrival of a new Princess, stopped as the cry ran out "The King is dead!" followed by the eternal "Long Live The King!"

* * *

Arthur was crowned on Westminster Abbey in a lavish procession that left nothing to the imagination. If Katherine's procession to England and the ceremony that followed their marriage was opulent, this was beyond words.

The previous Prince and Princess of Wales badges were altered and fashioned into a great one that exposed the wealth and opulence of the Tudor monarchy for many years to come.

His Highness, Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall as he was previously known passed his titles in a ceremony following his coronation to his firstborn son, also named Arthur. He became the Prince of Wales and he became Arthur II, King of England, France and Lord of Ireland.

* * *

Johanna was not alone when her sister came into the world. Why her mother had decided to hide the truth of her birth, she did not know, she was too young and undeveloped.

Katherine had been worried when she gave birth to twins that one of them might die. Her pregnancy had not gone as well as the others. She thought she might die and at last when she heard the second set of cries from Johanna's sister, she drew a breath of relief and her mother in law, the soon to be former Queen, cried "Hallelujah". However, when presented with the child, Katherine and her personal doctor, Doctor de la Sa, noted how small she was and that she was barely breathing.

Nobody knew of her existence until after her son's investiture.

She and Arthur shamefully came forward with many critics, on both sides of the fence. Those that justified their actions, mainly hers by saying she had to do it, to spare the realm any more pain and grievance, were opposed by the old aristocracy –who used this as their excuse to make their hatred for the Tudor monarchy evident and stain their good King Arthur's name.  
Like his father, he was unwilling to compromise. He promised them their private armies back and they got nothing.

*****"Your Grace Norfolk looks distressed." Lord Willoughby said as he passed the Duke of Norfolk, recently elevated for his "services" to the Crown. It was amazing to see that a former Ricardian could be such a staunch Tudor. His wife however warned him not to trust him. Who knew what truly lay in that black man's heart?

Rumors were that he and his noble peers were hatching a plot and trying to find whatever dirt they could find on the Queen to ruin His Majesty's reputation.

Since the birth of the other twin had been brought to light after she recovered from Quantrum fever, the bells in Westminster and every church it seemed –thought Thomas Howard- would not stop ringing.

He looked at his rival, the eleventh Baron Willoughby of Eresby and said as he warmed his hands near the fire. They were in the interior gallery of Greenwich. Court had moved from Westminster Palace to the Palace of Placentia in London Borough. It wasn't a far trek and they were still in London. It wasn't easy for William to adapt when court constantly moved from one great palace to another He struggled, Maria knew but the love for her mistress was so great that William had to be pushed aside. There was simply no room for two and if he were ever to put her into a position where she would have to decide, he knew Katherine would win.

"My Lord Willoughby I believe these bells haven't stopped ringing since the start of June."

Willoughby wheeled to face the Duke. He gave him an envious look that didn't go unnoticed by the younger gentleman.

Although he inherited his title, he had risen far in the ranks when he made the advantageous marriage to the Queen's lady-in-waiting, Maria de Salinas.

"Must have been Your Grace, they have good cause to ring. Two sons and healthy heirs might keep them ringing for a year or more, especially after the miraculous recovery of Princess Catherine."

"Ah yes, the mystery child who all of a sudden shows up out of nowhere." Norfolk said sarcastically then smirked. "The King is worse than ever now. 'Where is the Queen?' 'I must show this to the Queen!' 'The Queen must be the first to know!'Ugh!" He said with a high note of disapproval. "Matrimonial devotion is a virtue no doubt, but it can be carried to excess."

"Surely not." He said coming to stand next to the Duke, warming his hands. For being such a joyous occasion, the palace was very quiet.

"You say that because you are already married. Your opinion on marriage is as reliable as ever as a condemned murderer upon capital punishment. One can see no harm in it, and the other no good."

"I am sure I shall always be of the opinion that a husband and wife should love each other." He said smoothly, a smile danced on his lips as he thought of his wife's complexion, her eyes, her hair and her smile.

The Duke saw the smile and withdrew his hand off the fire, and said firmly. "But a King and Queen aren't husband and wife: they are fluctuating sources of power. While the King feels as he does towards Queen Katherine, this country will be ruled at one remove by that wily old Spanish fox, her father."

"Don't expect me to wish the King less fond. As long as my wife serves the Queen, the Queen's happiness makes her happy, and her happiness makes me happy." He said with a great smile that made the Duke's stomach lurch in disgust and turn away from the besotted Baron.

Everyone in the Kingdom was suffering from the same madness! "Next thing you and I will be hearing the bells ringing for the Duke of York's son."

"Your Grace, if I didn't know better I'd say you are almost wishing the whole Tudor family ill."

"Then you know me not." The Duke said roughly turning back to Willoughby. At the same time cries rang from every part of the castle as the midwives attending the Duchess of York screamed she had given birth to a song. The bells ran higher and louder than before. A year now, just as Lord Willoughby had predicted.

The Duke could not help but shake his head in disbelief at his other noble peers. Their plan to stain the King's name was halted as everyone had become enraptured by the two royal spouses charm, especially the Duchess of York who showed herself kinder, donating every jewel she'd been given by her grandfather, the Queen's father, that wily old fox, Ferdinand of Aragon and her Aunt, Margaret of Austria.

Everywhere they, the people would not stop screaming the Duchess' name as she and her husband threw coins at them, followed by the Queen's.

Katherine was not envious, on the contrary. She was actually glad because it gave her time to spend with her family. And she trusted Eleanor with her charity work so she knew the poor were in good hands.

But then, as it always comes to happen when the Royal Family is exceedingly blessed, there are always others who do not wait to voice their unhappiness. Like demons fleeing from God's truth, the bells were poison to the Duke's ears.

*****"Still here my lord?" Willoughby inquired giving the Duke a mocking glare as he came into the interior gallery. He was surprised to find His Grace at the same spot he found him three months earlier. Winter had come too soon, he found. The signs had all been there before but he had ignored them. It had nearly cost Maria's life and the life of their unborn child but thankfully God had heard their prayers and both she and her unborn child survived.

The Duke of Norfolk looked at Willoughby in fury. He looked like one of the furies in Hesiod's Theogony. "Can't withstand the sound? Surely you are not bothered by it? Everyone has grown used to it."

"You maybe, but not I. We have heard that accursed sound for over a year. It's too much."

"Don't exaggerate Your Grace, it's been less than half of a year but if Your Grace is as powerful as your attire shows, then praise be to you, you might just make it happen."

"Don't blaspheme. I am no fool. I know why you are here. No sooner has the Queen found time to rest has she elevated her sister-in-law and niece to the status of celebrity. If she is not careful, the little wench might just steal her title."

"Do not be saying that, the walls have ears."

"I know that and I control those ears. I may be blind to His Majesty's and his brothers' new subjects customs but I am not ignorant as to what goes in the palace. I owe my title to my good wit and wisdom after all."

"I thought Your Grace owed it to His Majesty."

The Duke shrugged his shoulders. He was curious so he asked Lord Willoughby if he and his wife were still of the same mind.

Willoughby answered excitedly: "Yes we are and we could not agree any more, especially in these last months that have been filled with tribulations but God has given us the strength to persevere."

"And the Queen the money to keep you happy."

"That hasn't hurt." Willoughby admitted. "We are very grateful for everything the Queen's done to us and the Duchess as well."

"So now she's switched you."

"Not me, my wife. She serves the Duchess' household. A minor setback. The Queen wants some alone-time with her husband and the Duchess is filled with such joy now with her son."

"Yes and no doubt it will be worse if she births another son."

Willoughby grinned. "Surely, His Grace does not wish ill on Her Grace, now do you?"

"I do not wish ill on anybody." He said but as the bells kept on ringing, louder it seemed to Norfolk, he sighed and said: "I said twas the King who was worse as ever when Her Majesty announced her daughter's full recovery but tis his brother who's become worse."

"The Duke of York has always been a passionate man and he loves showing his happiness, he wants the whole world to feel as happy as he and his wife is. Surely there is nothing wrong in that."

"But there is. He may not be the King of England but his marriage is the same as his brother, both are fluctuating sources of power. If God forbid something should happen to the King, Queen, and their family, it will be they who shall inherit and such behavior is un becoming of a royal couple!"

"Do not expect me to say any ill of them. I will give you the same answer as I gave you before. My wife serves the Queen and the Queen loves her niece, now her sister-in-law. If something God forbid, should happen to my wife's mistress or anyone of her family, her suffering shall be my suffering too. So you see Your Grace why I cannot agree with anything you say."

"We'll I'll let you to your own illusions. You and your wife are still young and this is only your second marriage, wait until you become older and more experienced then you will know God's truth. Though, if I were to have any lasts words on the matter is that I wish I had the power to stop these bells. Five months are long enough-"

Suddenly the bells stopped. The two men looked at each other in bewilderment then laughed.

"Your Grace, I never knew that you had such power!"

Before the Duke could reply with his usual sarcasm, a single bell began to toll slowly. They looked at each other again startled. Maria then came into the gallery, sobbing.

"Maria, what is it?"

"A message has just come from Richmond … Lord Henry Edmund-"

"Not dead! The child isn't dead?" The Duke interrupted, hoping his words did not have any negative influence that could have caused the little lord's death.

Maria looked at him in silence. All three glanced toward the window and the tolling bell whose sound was ominous and grave, synonymous to what the Duke and Duchess of York were feeling right now.

"How is the Queen?" Willoughby asked, taking his wife's hand.

"Has she been informed of her niece's misfortune?" He asked again.

She nodded slowly. "I was with her when she heard the news, straight from the horse's mouth."

"No, not the Duchess-" but Maria nodded, saying a barely audible "Yes."

"How is the Duchess?" He asked.

"The Queen tried to comfort her but she is inconsolable. The Duke is now with her. No one else can comfort her as he can."

* * *

That night in the Queen's bedchamber, the Duchess joined her aunt and sister-in-law one more time.

The Queen held her shoulders and brought her down to sit next to her on the bed. She promised herself she wouldn't cry but it was too much for Eleanor. She thought she could be the Queen her Aunt was but she couldn't.

How could she ever thought she could compare herself to such a creature? Her Aunt wasn't human, she was divine and she stupidly thought she could be the same. She had even gone to orphanages and hospitals trying to create the same image for herself but everywhere she went it was her Aunt Katherine they remembered. Even when they shouted it her name it came only after they said how good their Queen's niece was.  
She would never escape out of her Aunt's shadow and then she gave birth to a boy. A healthy baby boy, she thought that was the answer to her prayers but it wasn't. Now she had nothing!

"My little boy! My little boy!"

"I know. I know." Katherine said, pulling her niece to an embrace, running her fingers through her long silky black hair. Though they were Aunt and niece, they looked like they could pass as sisters. So similar were they in appearance.

"I wanted a son so much, Henry wanted a son. I wanted to give him a son."

"You are both young. You will have more sons. You will see. Shh, do not cry Leonor, mi nina, do not cry."

Eleanor remained in Katherine's arms, crying for hours until she fell asleep. Her ladies came for her and returned her to her rooms where Henry lay next to her. He felt guilty. He had put her under this stress. If he had not said to her he wished for a son more than anything else in the world, this would not have happened. He should have given her more time, he should have given this more time.

This was all his fault.

* * *

Time passes and they say time heals all the wounds but some wounds are so great that it takes more than time to heal them.

Katherine was there for Eleanor when she needed her. The Duchess of York never forgot her presence. They spent the next year in prayer, Eleanor became more religious, more observant of God's laws and in no time her penitence was rewarded. In early spring of 1511, just as the Queen had gone into confinement, pregnant with her fifth child, it was announced that Her Grace Eleanor was with child.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Ordeal by Ambition: An English family in the shadow of the Tudors by William Seymour, notes, Catherine of Aragon by Garrett Mattingly, and BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII.**  
**Thanks to Eleanor Boleyn for beta-ing the first half of this chapter and Mimi Dubois for tips and ideas for this story.**

**I am very disappointed that I got only three reviews last chapter. What happened? Am I doing something wrong?**


	5. Chapter 4

*****Henry VII had two instruments, Empson and Dudley (whom the people esteemed as much as they did leeches and pestilence) bold men and careless of fame, and that took toll of their master's grist. Dudley was of a good family, eloquent, and one that could put hateful business into good language. But Empson, oh Empson, he was the son of a sieve-maker, cheater and abuser alike, that triumphed always upon the deed done; putting off all other respects whatsoever. These two persons being lawyers in science and privy councilors in authority, (as the corruption of the best things is the worst) turned law and justice into wormwood and rapine.

Arthur wasn't sure how to deal with these people. On the one hand, he had the people demanding of him and calling out for their blood and on the other, he had his principles he needed to withhold. These were men who had been loyal to the Crown. They had served and fought alongside his father when no one else in England from the lowest to the highest would. They and only a select few had helped his father take the throne of England –and helped him keep it.

He could not punish them. No matter how much the people protested, how much they reclaimed. He was King of England. He would decide over their fate, not they. And if they didn't like it, they would have to accept it or face the consequences.

* * *

Katherine did not like keeping secrets. A woman such as herself kept secrets from everyone except her husband. He was the solid rock, the foundation upon which their marriage was founded on but occasionally he needed her help.

"He will not be happy." Mary, her sister-in-law, said, stating the obvious.

"I know that but it needs to be done. Arthur has done so much for us. It is the least I can do and God forbid the Yorkist claimants should use this as an excuse."

"It wouldn't be the first time." Katherine added after the youngest of the late Henry VII and Elizabeth of York's brood came forward, placing the crown on her head.

Her hair was done in a neat chignon, the upper portion of her body was adorned with the crown jewels, only the Crown had been missing.

"You look magnificent, sister." Lizzie exclaimed, feeling a little jealous as the Queen rose from her chair and turned to her.

"Thank you sister, you look very beautiful yourself. Does she not Maria?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, very much so." Her lady said cordially.

They followed the Queen to her litter. She led a silent procession to the Hospital recently built near Westminster. It had been Arthur's gift to her after she had given birth to another boy.

The men and women gathered around her. Maria and the rest of her companions wrinkled their noses as they approached. How could the Queen withstand all these humors? Was she not bothered by the foul smell and ragged appearance of these people?

Katherine barely took note of their appearance. "What's your name, good sir?" She asked one of the many who had gathered around them. He was the only one not extending his hands asking for alms.

"Matthew, my lady –I mean Your Majesty."

Katherine smiled and waved her hand dismissively. "Please call me Katherine. We are all God's children here and this hospital was my husband's gift to you so you will always remember him in his charity and remember Christ who came to us, poor and humble just as you-"

"My Lady-"

"Katherine."

"Katherine. I think there has been some heavy misunderstanding. I do not want to ruin your visit, we are very honored by it, but I and the rest of my companions here feel that the King has abandoned us."

"Why?" Katherine interrupted, her voice had risen but her tone had not lost its gentleness. "Please, I beg of you to tell me why. What has he done to make you believe this? His Majesty cares only about the well-being of his people. He is a good and Christian King." She took a step forward and grabbed the man's hand. "He would never betray your confidence."

"My lady-"

"Katherine."

"Katherine I … there are rumors …"

"What rumors?"

"Just rumors, gossip really. Some of the local lords have told us that, that … that the reason-"

"Oh hogswash, don't you be talking to her! Don't you see she just wants to buy our loyalty? Ugh, dirty royals they think themselves better than any one of us. I reckon they never had to grow hungry like the rest of us."

"My lady, what is your name?" Katherine asked gently turning to the rioter.

"Me name is Agnes my lady and I be no lady, I just be a nobody. That's 'ow you royals see me."

She was an old woman. Her tangled grey hair reached past her shoulders and she was clutching her shawl which Katherine suspected studying the fabric closely that it had been stolen.

Katherine walked to the woman, her women followed her but Katherine turned to them and ordered them to stop. She wanted to be alone with this woman –as alone as they could be in a crowd of hundreds.

Katherine was not afraid of them. She meant what she said that they were all God's children and to prove it to this woman, she knelt before her.

The old wench gasped. The rest of the crowd stared in mute silence as their anointed sovereign's wife touched the old hag's hands and kissed them, refused to lift her gaze and instead bowed her head and treated her as if she were the Queen herself.

"What do you say now my lady? I've come as you see me here today, naked before you. Before all of you. This business with his late Majesty's former tax collectors, Empson and Dudley"

"But Your Majesty, Empson and Dudley took everything we have. His late Majesty's taxes, God bless him, but he took away everything we had to fund his expensive wars." Someone shouted.

"We cannot go on like this!" Another one said and the crowed joined him. Katherine lifted her gaze and withdrew her hands from the old hag and like a mother looking at her children, she said gently to them: "My lords, we are all God's children. What His Majesty did was not done with the intention to harm you but to help you." They screamed foul curses at the King.

"As God's children is it not within our ability to forgive, to understand our shepherd's actions? God puts us on this Earth for a purpose. I believe his purpose is to help our fellow man. Don't you?" She walked back to the old woman. She passed her hand across the woman's face. Humbled by her lady's actions, she dropped to her knees and cried "Your Majesty!"

"Rise my child. There is nothing to forgive. The King of England is doing all he can for you, he speaks for you. Believe this when I say there is nothing he cares more than his people and it causes him grievance that you think so little of him."

The people lowered their heads down in shame. They had not wanted to believe the Queen's words but hearing their lady's sincerity they could not help themselves and they knelt down before her, asking her forgiveness.

"It is not me you should ask, it is God. Remember he is an anointed sovereign, his word is the law and it is protected by God himself through the church of St Peter. You've done a grave injustice, you've not only wounded his heart but our Lord Savior's as well."

The Queen was a good actress, and her tears seemed so genuine that they even moved the old woman into submitting herself to the King and Queen's will when she promised she would never speak ill of them again.

"You are all God's children and it is your function to obey your sovereign. But sometimes the herd must also give lessons to their shepherd before he can lead them into the promise land. My husband is only human, a King and God's chosen but human nonetheless. Let us all remember our first church lessons, the first King of Kings, David. He was considered unpopular in his time and many of the Israeli nobles would have rather preferred their old King to keep bestowing favors upon them but God had his purpose for David and the great nation he would create. He and his son Solomon went to become the greatest Kings their nation and the world have yet to see."

She took a step back and motioned for her ladies to join her. They did so reluctantly. "Great men have always been opposed by those closest to them. Like King David our King has many enemies within his realm who want to make him appear as weak so they can cease power again." Before any of them could voice their opinions, she added in a soft, gentle yet imperious voice. "You know what you must do. The King will not hold your actions against you. He knows they are not your own but remember this: No other King has been brought this low by his people's actions against him –I would not be here if it wasn't true." She paused then said. "God's only son had one message. Forgive us for our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespass us. The King shall stand firm by his decision, you must stand firm by yours. The King is a good Christian, he will not hold anything you do or say, against you. He knows your words are not your words but his enemies. It is up to you to decide who you will support. Good day and God bless." She wheeled around and left the hospital with her ladies and royal companions following her.

"That was dangerous my lady. What if the King finds out?" Maria said once they were back at that palace, releasing her lady's midnight hair. It came cascading down her shoulders, reaching past her back. Despite a few tangles, Maria found it easy to brush.

The Queen smiled and said coyly. "I want him to know. The King has been so busy attending Council business and this business has not let him eat, sleep, or function properly."

"My lady you should not speak so … Catalina, God forbid what if the King should hear you?"

She laughed silently. "I want him to Maria, I want him to know everything that I do so he knows not to underestimate me."

Maria looked questioningly at her. Katherine explained. "My mother always said put all your eggs in one basket. She said it was a phrase she learned while she was visiting the soldiers' barracks when we were fighting to retake the last Spanish territory from infidel's hands."

"What does that mean?"

"It means putting all your affairs in orders. My mother learned many things through fighting and the men she led into battle. They taught her time was of the essence and it waits for no man and King."  
She elaborated, "If Arthur wants to put this terrible business behind him he has to show the people that he cares, since he can't, I must do it for him."

When Maria said nothing, she continued. "There is nothing the people love more than a grieving Queen, give them this and you will have them kneeling at your feet. You don't agree Maria?"

"No, Your Majesty, it is not that I do not agree with what you are doing, but how you are doing it. Those people back there believed you, the King's sisters believed you." I believed you –she added silently, casting her eyes down.

Katherine smiled kindly upon her, she rose and placed her hands on Maria's shoulders. "I know you did." She said. "But my first duty is to my husband. I care for him as I haven't cared for anyone else in my life, including my father and mother, God rest her soul. I am doing this for him so his conscience can be at ease. It is a terrible thing when a King's conscience is uneasy. Lady Wydeville says that Arthur reminds him of her husband and he might as well. He certainly takes after his Yorkist ancestors but that is where the resemblance ends –or at least that is where I intend it to end." She paused. "I do not want my husband to spend half his time brooding, he is a King, he should lead. Nothing should stop him, not even his conscience." Katherine said and withdrew her hands from Maria's shoulders giving her one last smile before she dismissed her to wait on her husband.

* * *

He did not disappoint her. Although he was by her actions, he understood the reason behind them and that night as they lay together, the rest of the world lay forgotten.

* * *

Katherine gave birth to her sixth child in August, a year later after the tumultuous affair regarding the fates of Dudley and Empson. The King had remained as the Queen promised, firm by his decision sparing their lives. But the nobles who rebelled against him weren't so lucky.

Convinced by his brothers and wife, he imprisoned them and issued acts of attainder against them. The charges were simple: inciting rebellion, and making attempts on His Majesty's life.

The last one was hard to swallow as the jury, consisting of twelve noblemen, found it difficult to believe the Duke of Norfolk –one of their own- could be so foolish. But the evidence Arthur and the Privy Council had provided was irrefutable.

The Duke and his accomplices were sentenced on August 2, 1512. The people having no other source for entertainment, cheered as they were hung, stretched, cut open and finally decapitated.

Among his accomplices had been the Duke of Norfolk's son, Surrey and his son in law, Sir Thomas Boleyn. A well-to-do Wiltshire knight who had connections with the Butlers and other prominent families in Ireland. He was ambitious but his ambitions had been cut short when he decided to join his brother and father-in-law in plotting for their King's demise.

His family however, was being well cared for because of his wife's position in the Queen's household. She was not held responsible for her husband's actions and the Queen went as far as to foster her lady-in-waiting's children's education.

The eldest was going to be sent to the courts of Mechelen where the Archduchess Margaret, former wife to her late brother Juan, presided. The youngest would follow after her first year of service to the Queen. Katherine did not trust that girl in her former sister-in-law's court. It was a Court only for the high-born and most serious ladies and although Mistress Anne had none of the former, she was serious and could trust the girl to behave herself. The oldest however, Katherine had seen her romping on Court. She was flirtatious, loud, a coquette as her mother, she could not have her disrupting the peace of Margaret's court. She would stay here and if after one year she didn't behave she would be sent back to Wiltshire with no marriage prospects, dowry, nothing.

This was the Queen's final word and Lady Elizabeth had to accept it. She bowed her head solemnly and kissed Her Majesty's jeweled hand, thanking her for her kindness.

* * *

Ferdinand, the King and Queen's third and youngest son had a new companion. His companion was George Boleyn and the friendship these two struck would create an impact on his family for generations to come.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Francis Bacon's Essays and JP Sommerville history page. Mary Boleyn and Lady in the Tower by Alison Weir, notes, Six Wives of Henry VIII by David Starkey, and Tudor Age by Jasper Ridley.  
The review by Keisha although I deleted it really upset me so I apologize to my readers if this chapters has declined in its quality and failed to meet your expectations. Perhaps I am a failure, I will not continue this story if you do not want me and if it continues to decline in quality.**

**You can thank Keisha for taking the time and expressing her opinion of my flaws. I apologize for writing a different kind of story and trying something different.  
**


	6. Chapter 5

"You promised me you would bring me something." Elizabeth told her best friend and sister. It wasn't a huge scandal that she, the Queen, let her youngest sister travel with their latest ambassador to Scotland, in hopes that they could dissuade the King of Scotland to ally himself to Brittany.

"My lady, I think you are jealous." Edmund said, coming into the room, his jesting smile and arresting grin charming as ever. Her ladies could not help but turn and cover their mouths to hide their giggles. Edmund winked at them. If only he had the good fortune of his brothers, those Plantagenet, Yorkist and Welsh looks, he would not have problem sweeping them off their feet.

He sighed mentally, winking at the most flirtatious of them. Perhaps one day he'd have his own night of debauchery.

Anne Stanhope, barely a young girl, only five, turned away. Her cheeks blushed furiously. He was handsome alright, but he was nothing like his nephew, he youngest Prince, Ferdinand.

She had seen him with the only male heir of the traitor Thomas Boleyn. Welsh, his looks dark in contrast with the Prince's fair ones. She already fashioned herself his Queen.

"And a golden crown to crown me the Duchess of Gloucester!"

"You wish." Princess Elizabeth, her mistress said, poking her youngest charge's nose. Since her father had died and her mother had remarried a cruel and uncaring man who made it clear he had no room for looking after her and her mother all too eager to get rid of her –sent her off. She would have remained in her Aunt's household had it not been for the Queen and her sister-in-law's charity. She never took anything from anyone. She hated being pitied but she wasn't stupid –If there was something, anything good worth remembering from her last days with her mother was this: use the gifts God gives you to get what you wanted and never refuse help from a wealthy benefactor.

Being in the Princess' household would get her places. She encountered the Prince on the first day she arrived. He was only two but he was bright and highly observant. He called her angel. It was the first time Anne had been shown true kindness, now she intended on turning that kindness on something useful –something that would bring profit and make her one of the wealthiest and most well respected women in Europe.

A person of ambition like her mother, once she set her eye on something, she never failed to attain it.

The Princess' voice snapped her from her thoughts. "His Highness, my nephew, is likely to marry an Infanta as her father before him, or a Dauphine, a ruling Duke's daughter, any royal daughter of the most prestigious Houses in Europe but you. I don't say this to hurt you but I do mean to discourage you. The Prince takes strongly after his Wydeville ancestors, if he is anything like his great-grandmother, the ladies will be chasing after him. It will be too much for a lady of high status such as yourself to burden herself with."

"So you give him a royal wife instead?" She demanded, her lower lip thrust forward, to make it seem it seem that she was pouting.

And she was, her brother Edmund who just re-entered her privy chamber after he'd finished his third round with one of his sister's maidens. Maidens no longer –he thought to himself, a smirk playing on his handsome lips. "Poor Ferdinand if he ever were to marry someone like you little bumpkin." He said giving her an open smile but she wasn't impressed.

Just then said Prince came into the room and he was beautiful, Anne noted. Just two but she could tell he would grow into the most beautiful man alive and he would be all hers.

Nobody would love him more than her and he would love her all the same. And with that love he would shower with gifts, castles, and titles.

* * *

Katherine was angry with the reports given by the Archdeacon of East Ridery of Yorkshire, Thomas Magnus and the Princess Catherine. "We've done all we can, You Majesty." Started Ramsay "But I am afraid the High King of Scotland as he styles himself now is of the mind that tis England's fault and if His Majesty fails to issue an apology, he will send troops to invade our holy soil."

"Do not blaspheme Excellency. We do not need to endure more of God's punishment. We have been punished enough with Her Majesty's honorable father's costly wars." Margaret Beaufort, the late King's mother and present King's grandmother.

"Mother!" Elizabeth of York said, her eyes pleading with her but Margaret Beaufort would not be dissuaded.

"Your father promised an army of thirty thousand men and instead what do we get? Sickly soldiers! The few in good health are so green your own husband had to spend money out of his pockets to train them! Tell me, is this the honorable attitude of a Queen."

"My Lady Grandmother, I am sorry if you think me to be so foul, but I am and shall always be a noble daughter of the House of Spain, however I know my duty lies with my husband and I have done nothing wrong. When he seeks council I give it to him, when he doesn't I keep my silence." She said her voice gentle yet firm, looking right into the older woman's eyes. "That My Lady Richmond is the truth."

"Not my truth. I see what you are doing. I have seen many done it before you. I am not blind Katherine, I have lived many lives and I have not survived for so long to be taken a fool by an insolent girl and her insolent father."

"My Lady Grandmother-"

"Do not lady grandmother me! Stay clear of me!" She said raising her hand in a threatening manner but it only earned her glares and looks of disapproval from the rest of the people present in the Queen's closet.

"My Lady Richmond, perhaps we ought to leave the youths to their business, this is after all their world and our time has passed." Elizabeth Wydeville said earning looks of approval and a great smile from everyone in the room and the Queen herself who nodded at her, telling her to take her old companion and her daughter with her.

Outrageous! Thought Lady Richmond. If her son was still here he would have never have allowed that girl to become Regent. What was her grandson thinking? It was the Yorkist blood. She knew nothing good would have come out of marrying her son to Wydeville's daughter but at the time it had been the only option and the only solution to end a thirty year struggle.

Queen Katherine turned to her youngest sister-in-law, Princess Catherine. "Tell me Cat, what did you think of His Majesty when you saw him? Did you get to speak with Our sister, Queen Margaret?"

"No." Catherine said, and then added with a brute honesty that always came so natural to her. "Her Majesty did not wish to see us and even if she had, I fear one of us would have returned to our master with a bloody nose."

Katherine smirked. Always fighting but she was the only one of the sisters Katherine could trust. Mary was too spoiled, Elizabeth was too gentle, and Margaret was so far away and by what she was told by her sister and Archdeacon Magnus, too changed to trust with a political endeavor of this magnitude. Did she even want peace besides? Judging by the rest of Catherine's speech she guessed not.

"She is not Our sister anymore. Her loyalties lie with Scotland. She sent one of her ladies, Janet Kennedy to tell us so and that if we know what is best for England, your husband will pull out of France and return to England where he will sign a marriage treaty between your eldest daughter and son with her only son and daughter, the Prince James and Princess Mary Stuart."

"Anything else?"

"No, Your Majesty, that is about everything. I am afraid we have no choice in this matter Katherine. If I know my sister which I sadly do and I know her better than the rest of my sisters except yourself because I spent half of my time idolizing her and got to know her through the tales father and Lady Grandmother told me of her; I know she will not hesitate to strike and she is probably wishing it'd be now so she can be Queen in your stead and her son the future King of England, thus uniting the Crowns of England and Scotland and become the richest monarch in all of Europe."

Katherine glared at her. No! She would not have it. England was Arthur's and hers alone. She would not let the country shed more blood for another usurper. There had to be a way to maintain peace, but as the weeks passed she lost more and more hope.

Finally the servant of Sir John Ramsay came from the English Embassy. He looked like he was in a hurry and when he asked to be excused, Katherine did not keep him. She asked her chief lady-in-waiting to reward him handsomely for his services and then he was off.

Katherine opened the letter and just as Catherine had warned her.

"Damn her!" Katherine swore in Spanish, English, then Latin, and every other language she could think of, all at once.

Damn that Scottish whore! She had bewitched her husband and now he and his army were marching to England.

"They will be here in matter of days!" A frantic Mary said going to her mother, seeking comfort. Elizabeth of York pulled her into a warm embrace and whispered comforting words in her ear.

No! Her own daughter –she thought. The peace that her husband had worked so hard for, ruined. And all because one of their own.

All of the Tudor men were out fighting and assisting Arthur. The last to cross the narrow sea had been Edmund. England was alone and under her command.

"It leaves much to be desired." Margaret mumbled as the Queen began issuing orders the following day, assembling what was left of her husband's Privy Council and issuing orders of attainder, using her husband's royal seal on anyone suspect of treason.

No one was safe. Scottish possessions in the North were taken by the Crown and the people were left dispossessed. Against the protests of the Queen Dowager and the Lady Richmond, Katherine promised she would issue writs once this conflict was over.

"Little good it would do them. By the time the conflict is over the soldiers would have ransacked the place." Lady Margaret cried.

"Are you calling the Queen a liar, My Lady?" The former Queen Dowager, Elizabeth Wydeville asked, her hands placed behind her back, walking regally and stoically as Margaret had yet seen her.

"No, I am simply asking her to have some common sense! Your Majesty, these people rely on my grandson, your husband's trust. What will they think when they find their homes ransacked, their villages pillages and their possessions stolen."

"My Lady Margaret I appreciate your concern but His Majesty left me as England's Regent and as the country's Regent my first concern is the English people, everything else is secondary. Now if you please, I am late for to discuss strategy with my generals."

My, not the royal Our, but My. This little wench already styled herself the owner of England.

Oh Arthur -the Lady of Richmond and Queen Dowager found themselves praying for the same thing for the first time in their lives- please return quick! You do not know the chaos this inexperienced wife of yours will lead us in!  
She clutched her rosary and knelt before the altar inside Westminster Abbey, the Queen with her. They both prayed for their family and the safety of the realm.

Katherine, they feared, would lead them into a war they would and could not win.

* * *

Meanwhile Arthur, joined by his younger brothers, was trying to hold the last line of defense against the damned French. As Edward had warned him, the Spaniards had abandoned them.

Damn Ferdinand. He had been blind, foolish to the other man's Machiavellian game. He was using him so he could reclaim the Italian territories the French had stolen from him. He never had any desire to take France.

"Let's kill these traitors and make an example of them."

"Put their heads on a spike, they will rot faster."

"Ferdinand will know better than to cross us again."

Arthur wheeled around to face his brothers and raised his hand. All at once their chatter stopped. "We will do nothing of the sort." Arthur declared.

"But Arthur!"

"I said no. We are not savages. We will tend to the wounded and put them on a boat back to England. If this King is as just as reputation has it, he will allow their families to pay the ransom if not, well they will make for good exhibition on our royal menagerie."

Henry grinned. Just when he thought his brother was having cold feet.

"Good option brother. If I may so I couldn't have thought of it better myself, well I could but I did not want to spoil His Majesty's glory." Edward, the youngest of the four said.

The rest rolled their eyes at him. Arthur slapped the back of his head and Henry gave him another slap on his back. "Come, we have a war to finish. We will not go to England empty handed. We cannot afford ourselves that luxury. We owe it to our people to come victorious."

"You perhaps, you have ladies back at home waiting for you. We on the other hand are free to come back to England with a few battle scars on our faces, no one will care that we lost or not, they will just be asking –'Where did you get those?' 'How many French did you kill?' 'Was it scary out there?'" Edward chuckled nudging his older brother Edmund shoulder. They and their three sisters, Mary, Elizabeth, and Catherine were the only ones to remain unmarried.

Arthur and Henry shook their heads at their younger brothers. They enjoyed as much as they could in these moments and got lost in them for tomorrow they knew could be their last.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Catherine of Aragon by Garrett Mattingly, Catherine, the Queen by Mary M. Luke, Sister Queens by Julia M. Fox, The Forgotten Queen by D.L. Bogdan, notes, and Tudors by John Guy.**

**Thanks to everyone who convinced me not to take the easy way out, who were there for me and before I get more emotional, I want to say thank you, truly thank you. I could not have done this without you and Marci thank you : )  
Thanks to MimiDubois for giving me this challenge and to Couture and the rest of my reviewers for continuing their support.**


	7. Chapter 6

*****"I am ashamed of this silly masquerade. Alright," he clicked his tongue, "I will call them my brothers as you taught me to. You taught me everything. Those were happy times, do you remember Sir Thomas?"

"Yes I do Your Grace, but you mustn't despair. After all death is only but a door, time but a window, we will all be returned in time for the resurrection."

"I do not believe it so Sir Thomas. God forgives no one and Death is even less merciful. Shameful bitch, she forgives no one in the hour of our-"

Thomas raised his hand. "Say no more Your Grace. We will recover, in time men shall see at our actions and rejoice in them because it was you who took an arrow for your King, your brother. You will go down in history as the filial one, the loyal brother, the subject who gave his life so His Majesty shall live and continue to rule justly over a golden England."

"You dream to much Sir Thomas."

"Yes, I have been told. But isn't that what dreams are for, to give us comfort in our most solemn hour?"

"Do you not fear death Sir Thomas?"

"I do not. All my affairs are in order. Lady Alice has given me more children to continue the family name. My father will be pleased no doubt when my son succeeds me. I am sure he will be a far better lord than I ever was."

Henry chuckled then started coughing. It hurt when he spoke, it hurt when he shit, it hurt every time. Thomas was faring no better. He raised his eyes to the sky. They would not be long for this world, death had marked them both, they would soon be gone.

* * *

Eleanor shed more tears after the battle was done. The battle had been won and the dreaded French had been beaten. But at what cost? She screamed to the four winds as she whipped her back after she'd stripped naked and threw her clothes with the rest of her jewels, including her golden coronet that Henry had personally crowned her across the room.

"Monsters!" She shouted. The French, her grandfather, her mother for failing to raise her banner as her own mother had done when the *Beltraneja and her enemies had raised arms against her.

Cowards! All of them!

"What am I going to do?" She was a widow with two children, one of them a son, the heir to Henry's lands and title and a daughter who reminded her so much of her mother. "Oh how I wish you were not like her!" She railed as her children were brought before her as she asked.

Her poor child, she was too much like her namesake, Joanna for her liking. And she would grow to be madly in love clinging to an ungrateful husband and an impossible love.

"Take them away!"

"Her Majesty requests-"

"I said take them away!"

Her women bowed and with the nurses left her chambers.

"Henry!" She screamed beating her fists against the bloody wall, stained with her blood.

Why did he have to die? "What am I going to do? What am I going to do?" She kept asking until she collapsed from exhaustion and fell asleep on the floor.

* * *

*****Arthur received James bloody coat and examined it. "Ugh, take it away. Bloody Scot, he smells foul. Send the Queen my congratulations on a battle well-fought and my condolences to my sister-in-law."

"Your Majesty." The groom bowed, turned and left with the bloody coat on his gloved hands.

It was the ultimate humiliation for the Scottish people and their King. It was a stab at their pride and Katherine had given the biggest blow when she offered her husband the body of their late King James.

Arthur naturally said no. He was not a lunatic as to stir rebellion in England. That was something his wife had yet to comprehend.

England was not Spain. The same way their customs would be laughed at, mocked at, and rejected at Spain so were hers, with the minor exception of her warfare. The way she had conducted warfare had appalled Arthur but he couldn't help but feel pride.

It was impossible not to when she owed her victory to him and acknowledged that he had been with her in spirit and in mind by letting her use his best Generals.

In truth it had been the late Duke of Norfolk's son who on his father's death had fallen from grace and become from Earl to another simple noble peer, fighting his way through the vultures of Court, hoping to be noticed. But alas! Fate hath a wicked sense of humor.

Katherine had raised him to Sir on the start of the battle and reinstated his father's titles by the end of it.

"How funny this is. Only years ago we were celebrating Margaret's betrothal. Our brother was with us. Do you remember Ned?"

"Yes, I do." Edward said solemnly, bowing his head in respect for their fallen brother.

Edmund, his older brother and companion had gone back to England to be there for his grieving widow and relay the message of the King's gratitude to his wife.

It was good that he went away, Arthur decided. He did not need to share their pain, he was the more sensitive of the four, three now. He needed to be where there was joy and merriment and there would surely be despite their losses for Katherine had been triumphant.

Henry had grown his beard –to spite the French he said when they took Bourdeaux and the other cities they intended to conquer. It would be a final stab at French pride, he intended to be a conqueror. He said he would not rest until he killed one hundred French men and brought their bloody coats to his wife as his Christmas present.

How ironic life was.

"Poor Henry." Arthur said looking at his fallen brother. Out of all their brothers it had been he who had given him the most trouble, yet it was also he, he had trusted the most. He would miss him. "Rest well, dear brother."

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Becket with Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole, Tudors by John Guy, Sister Queens: The Sad and Tragic Lives of Juana and Katherine by Julia Fox, notes, Catherine, The Queen, by Mary M. Luke, and On The Trail For Anne Boleyn History Blog.**

**Short chapter, next one will be longer, I promise.**


	8. Chapter 7

*****When her mother and father had arranged an English marriage for her, she made no protest. Tall, slender, dark-haired like her father and delicate-faced, Eleanor had all the love of ceremony and cheerful attitudes of her father and the sweet-tempered nature manner that her mother had once been famous for and learned in the Spanish Court. The English people thought her queenly, princely, and in every way a proper wife for their sovereign lord's second son, the Duke of York. Even more than their future Queen, they had committed their hearts and souls for her. And so, naively she believed that if she continued to pander to their desires, she would become their one true Queen in all but name.

"How naïve of you." Elizabeth Wydeville said as she entered her chambers unannounced.

"Excuse me?" Demanded Eleanor, turning her head to face her grandmother-in-law.

"I said how naïve of you. You believed my grandson could love you with the same passion as my first grandson loves his Queen. Did you seriously think little dove that you could outsmart her, that you could turn yourself into an image for everyone to worship? You are nothing, in the scheme of things none of us matter. Not Katherine, not you, not I, not your children, certainly not your husband." She smirked. "He died so you could remain free and this is how you pay him: Marauding around the palace like some lost soul. You are truly naïve if you think your new title of wife to England's hero will earn you something."

"The King will-"

"The King will do nothing. Expect nothing of him. He will come, sure he will come and grant you _some_ rights. Give you some splendid manors to live in for the rest of your days but by the end of the day," Elizabeth gave a dry chuckle "you will be forgotten. Your children will be taken into royal custody and you little dove will spend the rest of your days, miserable and forgotten."

Anger swelled in Eleanor, she fought hard to restrain the tears that threatened to fall.

Elizabeth walked to her and placed her hand on her shoulder. Her cold smile and amused glance, cocking her head in a mocking manner forced Eleanor to take a step back but Elizabeth followed her and now placed both hands on her shoulders tightened her grip. "You think you can wrestle yourself out of this one? You can't, the Queen will not forget the grievous injury you cause her, screaming before her in Church condemning her as the sole responsible for your husband's death. What do you say to that little dove?"

"It's the truth. I spoke the truth just as I was taught to by my venerable mother. The Queen sent my husband to assist His Majesty, she didn't take into consideration my feelings or the feelings of my children-"

Elizabeth interrupted her with cold laughter. "Your children are nothing but whimpering babies who do nothing else but shit and whine, and you are a Princess, not a Queen. Your words carry no more weight than a smith's daughter. It's within the Queen's right to do as she pleases, I know because I was Queen once. People forget that." She released her and walked to the window to admire the beautiful sunset. Her mother used to say there were beautiful sunsets in Northern France but Elizabeth didn't think there was place with greater beauty than England.

She turned to Eleanor, she could see the girl was shaken and near tears. "I won't convince you to change your mind; if I was Queen I would not have hesitated and thrown you into the dungeons. That was how it was in my days but this Queen has new ideas and I won't be standing in her way and you won't either. When she comes here I want you to go on your knees and beg for forgiveness. I will know if you don't. I still have many eyes in this palace and a little bird like you doesn't escape my watch."

"Agreed?" She said after the Princess' gaze had fallen in the floor. Her head snapped and she looked up to face her. She nodded slowly.

"Good. I bid you good day Princess Eleanor." She bowed her head, wheeled around and left.

Keeping with her promise Eleanor dropped to her knees, her long sleeves falling on the floor, her dark hair lose. Her voice broken by earlier sobbing and her eyes red from so much crying, she begged the Queen for her forgiveness. She promised her that it would not happen again and if she ever did anything to displease Her Majesty she would accept the Crown's punishment and gladly hand over all her material possession. "But please," she said. "do not take my children. They are the only thing I have left, they are all I have to remember him by. Surely Your Majesty as a mother yourself, can sympathize with me."

"Yes I can. But your words wounded me sister. You are not only my sister through marriage but you are also my blood relation and your words cut a wound so deep in my heart I feel it will never heal."

"Your Majesty, I am so sorry, please if you only allow me to-"

She held a hand up. "No, sister, the Council has spoken and so have I. Your children shall be handed over to the Crown and you will be placed under the protective custody of Our brother Edmund. Guards, take her away and instruct her ladies to pack her bags."

Her command was final. Eleanor was screaming foul curses at her from behind but Katherine ignored them. When she returned to her bedchamber, Arthur was there waiting for her.

* * *

"Hurrah! Surrender you fiend! Surrender your bow, give me your cities or I shall sack your women, pillage your village, rape your mothers!"

"No, no, my son." Corrected Arthur gently, taking the wooden sword from his hand. "It's sack your homes, plunder your treasury, take your women, rape your mothers and kidnap your children to hold them for ransom."

Ferdinand giggled and took the sword from his father while he lowered his guard and cried "en garde!"

Arthur chuckled and raised his own and allowed himself to be thrust by his son, feigning injury as he fell to the floor clutching his fake wound. "Enough, enough my lord!"

"Give up your claim fiend or I shall impale you and exhibit your parts on every high castle in London."

"No my high lord, mercy! I give up!"

"There shall be no mercy for traitors. I condemn you to death!"

"Ah!" Arthur gave a mock cry and spread his hands as he fell completely on his back, his son thrusting his sword forward.

"Enough with fencing lessons. You will give your poor father a heart attack." Katherine broke them apart. She clutched her stomach and came to her knees. She felt a hot-stabbing pain in her midsection.

"My lady? Kat …" Arthur asked, more concerned.

Katherine screamed in response. "Ah!"

Arthur turned to his son who was too scared to speak. His father yelled at him to go but Ferdi as their parents had nicknamed him, was too scared to move. Finally his father shook him, leaving his wife momentarily in the arms of her chief lady, Lady Willoughby. "I said go! Go boy now. Fetch help!"

"Help."

"Help yes. Go!"

Ferdinand was on his feet, up and running, yelling at whoever he could find. The news spread like wildfire. For those who still hated the King for restricting their power and raising men who had come to nowhere to positions who should have been theirs by right, they applauded fate's actions and continued to pray to the Lord that He take the Queen and her unborn child.

Their prayers however remained unanswered as the Queen battled day and night.

Nearly three years.

Three years since that fateful night her husband had returned from battle and nearly five years since they celebrated his return and his victory in France. He had captured single-handedly with the aid of his brothers the French towns that had once belonged to them before Henry VI lost them to the French Dauphin in the hundred years war.

"Ah!"

"Breathe, my lady, breathe." Katherine squeezed Maria's hand. Her sisters-in-law, Mary Brandon who on her return to France her married the King's subject Charles Brandon and had been elevated to Duke and Duchess of Suffolk, and the Princesses Catherine and Elizabeth where there besides her tending to her every need and cleaning the sweat off her forehead.

She thought she was going to die.

"Just one more push Catalina." Maria said using her Spanish and Christian name. "Just one more."

Katherine didn't think she would make it. God was calling her to his bosom and she would answer his call. She was tired of fighting, tired of the family squabbles, tired of hearing Eleanor's complaints. She would give anything to be released from this pain.

Just then, a pain like she never felt before racked her, forced her eyes open and she began to push.

She pushed with every ounce of strength she had left in her body and on her final battle cry she was released from her burden.

"Tis a girl, Your Majesty."

"A girl." Katherine breathed with a sigh of relief. Unlike the other times, she was not disappointed. She and Arthur had sons and they were healthy now. Another daughter would just add to their fortunes. She would be used as a political tool, forge alliances and bring honor and security to England by doing so.

"My daughter." She said with a bright smile illuminating her dark features, darkened by the worry she'd felt earlier when she thought that both she and the child were in danger of dying.

Her husband came hours later after she'd been bathed and clothed. She was wearing a simple white chemise. She didn't appear weakened or strained on any level. He had been nervous and hesitant to come when he was told she had given birth to another girl.

He had seen how her last pregnancy had nearly drained her of all her energies; he was afraid he would witness the same image but finally convinced by his brothers, he came.

Katherine perked her head up. She gave him a gracious smile. "Come say hello to your new daughter my King."

"She is beautiful." Arthur said as he sat next to his wife, peering down at the small baby in her arms.

"She is your daughter." Katherine announced. And your last. The doctors had told her after her, she would have no more children. Her heart had stopped for two minutes and she bled heavily. They feared another pregnancy would be the end of her. But Katherine would not tell him. She had forced the physicians to a vow of silence. Whatever will be will be –that was her motto. And if God wanted her to have another child, she would and nothing she or Arthur decided would matter.

"What shall you name her?" She asked.

Arthur blinked. He had not honestly thought about that. He spent most of his time praying and kneeling before the altars of the holy church that he hadn't given it much thought. He shifted his gaze from their newborn daughter to his wife. In his mind he had already named her, but he wanted to hear her name first since his family always got to name all their other children.

"Why don't you name her, love? I am sure it will be a worthy name for our little fighter down here?"

Katherine tilted her head slightly and asked, "Are you sure?" uncertain of what she was hearing.

Arthur nodded.

"Well then, I will have to think hard. It is not every day my husband gives me such privilege." She said laughing quietly. Arthur joined her.

She looked down at their little Princess. Elizabeth, she thought. No, they already had an Elizabeth, born two years ago in the first anniversary of their victory over the Scots in the battle of Flodden. Besides, the world was crowded with Elizabeths, they did not need another.

Joanna and every other variation there was of the name was taken, so were Margaret, Catherine, Isabella … She sighed.

Just then the answer came.

She turned her gaze down at the child. Her eyes wide, curious, and alert looked in every direction. Dark grey like her father's, her golden red hair mane, and fair skin set her apart from her other siblings, making her a perfect combination of Tudor and Plantagenet.

The name will suit her.

"Mary." She said.

"Are you certain? Is this what you want?" He asked tracing his fingers across his daughter's cheek.

"Yes, I do. She is our little angel, our little miracle. God's gift to us."

Arthur smiled and nodded silently in agreement, captivating by the baby's stunning dark grey eyes. It was like looking at his own reflection. He could tell she was going to grow into a beauty.

My little Mary. He thought as he withdrew his hand and hid his smile behind a look of pride as the little Princess looked up at her father with a great smile that only turned greater when her mother began whispering loving things in her small ears.

* * *

*****The child was Christened on February 21st on the Church of the Observant Friars where her elders sisters had been Christened.

She was the eighth and last of the King and Queen's children. She was given twelve manors, most of which were in decay but Arthur vowed he would restore them by the time she reached adulthood and a purse of two thousand pounds a year. –Higher than any peer, noble and royal. Certainly more than his Queen. But Katherine did not complain. She was happy to see all of her family united under the same roof to celebrate on this joyous occasion of the year of our Lord, 1516, the birth of their new Princess, Mary Tudor.

Katherine left her confinement nearly a month later, following her churching and her reentry to the world. Everywhere she went she would show her baby to visitors, boasting *"This little girl never cries." Arthur was certainly not far behind. He and Katherine did everything to ensure her welfare.

* * *

For the third consecutive time, Edmund rode wearing his sister-in-law's favors, the Duchess Dowager of York's. She was reluctantly seated next to the Queen, watching the tournament in silent admiration.

All the ladies were eager to catch the Duke of Somerset and his brothers' attentions. The youngest of the three was next, he pushed his horse forward and asked their sovereign lady for her favors.

Katherine gave them gladly and took a step forward to tie them around his lance then kissed it. "For luck." She said, her ladies behind her winking at the greatest womanizer the land had ever seen then watched him ride off, ready to meet his opponent.

"It was a good spectacle, Your Majesty." Eleanor told her Aunt when they were sewing new shirts for the King.

"It was, wasn't it? There is no one better at tourneys than my husband. He always wins but occasionally he thrusts his lance too hard. I think he wants so hard to prove his virility."

"Certainly he does." Elizabeth Wydeville said with a wicked smile, winking at Katherine as she spoke, "After eight children I imagine he wishes for more and men –well, I should know, I who brought my husband so many" she boasted, smiling for the sake of simpler times when it had been her who was the object of men's admiration and the subject on everyone's mouth. "are in constant need to prove their virility."

"My lady grandmother that is not a subject fit for royal ladies."

"Ah, but not all of you are royal ladies and besides all of us once we're at the bottom, we have all been struck by tragedy, we've all tasted it, savored it, it's sour taste still runs in our tongues."

"My lady grandmother (please forgive her ladies) likes to speak in riddles but I assure you she means well, isn't that so my lady?"

"Of course I do, Your Majesty. I am merely jesting of course, but I do mean what I said earlier. Men are in constant need to prove themselves, or else their lances run rust."

"You mean the metal turns rust."

"No, I mean what I say little dove. Their lances run rust and who has use of a man with rusty lance?"

The ladies erupted into giggles, even Katherine herself couldn't help with her laughter, hiding it by bringing a hand to her mouth, laughing discretely unlike her younger maids of honor.

"I suppose so." Eleanor said, looking down at her prayer book. All she knew was dresses, jewels, and praying, other than that she was very useless but in these past three years –since her children became royal wards- she had found solace in her religion –Albeit she was not as pious as Katherine.

Katherine rubbed her sister's shoulder and turned to her mother. Their laughter had died down to be replaced by amused grins as the present Queen indulged on the former one and asked her to entertain them with tales of her time as Edward IV's consort.

"I hope you didn't find the conversation too lewd." Katherine said after they'd left.

"No, I felt very much at home actually." She said giving her sister-in-law the first genuine smile she'd given her in many years.

Katherine could sense its genuineness and smiled back, pulling her sister into an embrace. "Sister, we've missed you. You should be very proud, your children do nothing but ask of you and little Joanna is already playing the virginals."

"You give them too much credit. When I left them, Harry was nothing but a little monkey running amok and Joanna was no better."

"Sister, sister, you are too hard on them. They are beautiful, well-mannered children. You should come with me in my Northern progress with the King. I am sure they will be happy to see you."

Eleanor wanted to say no, she had nothing more to say to them and looking at them would only make it more difficult. Harry looked too much like his father, they even had the same tone, the same laughter.

_No._

She began shaking her head, but Katherine's insisting smile made her accept in the end.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Mary Tudor by Anna Whitelock, Queen In Waiting by Georges McHargue, notes, and BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII.**


	9. Chapter 8

Katherine felt Eleanor grab her hand and squeeze it hard as the two horsemen sat at either end of the jousting course, awaiting a signal from the tourney's master at arms.

"It's been a while since you've been to a tourney sister. You've forgotten how to enjoy them?" Mary asked, smiling pitifully at her sister-in-law. She could not help her nature, she was highly empathetic of everyone's plight, especially Eleanor's whose loss had been as hard for her as the older woman.

"No my sister, I still remember a thing or two such as to smile and nod my head as the rest of the ladies present, but I feel I will never smile as I used to. The memory of my husband is too fresh in me."

"Mary you should not be speaking of such things to the Dowager Duchess. Can you not see she is grieving still?"

"I am sorry, Lady Grandmother, I only wanted to make conversation."

"Well think of something else, a lady in your position should be more understanding. You were born with reason child, use it." Margaret Beaufort, the Countess of Richmond said snapping her fingers at her servant to refill her cup.

"I only meant to be nice."

"We don't, some things are better left unsaid, don't you think little dove?" Elizabeth Wydeville said turning to Eleanor.

Before Eleanor could reply, Mary said, "You do not have to answer them sister, let us watch the tournament instead."

Eleanor turned her head away from the elder women and silently thanked her.

"It is nothing. I apologize if I made you feel bad."

"Tis not your fault. Someone had to say it and I am grateful that you were the one uttering those words instead off …" she paused and slowly turned. The Queen was happily entertained by her youngest sisters in law, Princess Elizabeth and Princess Catherine, and their mother, the Queen Dowager who said something in her ear that made her laugh. She returned her attention to the Duchess of Suffolk who had followed her gaze and nodded understandingly.

"I can empathize with your plight. The Queen is trying to do her best though. She has been very attentive to your children's needs. She even convinced the King to give your son, Harry, York Palace which Wolsey intended for him."

"Hmph." Eleanor said gazing at the woman with cold indifference. "I suppose she did. Katherine loves her charity."

"You should not think so ill of her. She's even advocated for our sister, Margaret."

Eleanor wheeled her head to her. "No." She said but Mary nodded. "She couldn't have. Katherine has granted entry to the Queen of Scots?"

*"Former Queen of Scots." Mary corrected. "It was decided yesterday. You should have seen half the faces of the members of the Privy Council. My husband tells me they were all livid and scarlet with rage but the Queen has decided it's what needs to be done to put this bad blood between us and the Scots behind us."

"But the Scots have always been our enemies. Had it not been for their King, Henry would have been Regent instead of her and he would still been …" Alive, she thought, but couldn't bring herself to say it.

"No, I forbid it."

"It's already been decided sister-"

"I don't care I forbid it. I shall not mean the woman who helped murder my husband. She is a traitor, her son is a traitor too. They are all traitors. Besides if she is anything like Henry told me, she will not want to bow before mighty Katherine-"

"Sister you should be more careful with your words, the Queen has ears-" But she didn't get to finish her sentence. The flag was lowered and the riders rode head on. The Duke of Somerset, Edmund Tudor, rode a mare that was in heat and thus the mare's lust had earned him victory.

The King was unseated but he was not vindictive as his other opponents for being unseated by his younger brother. He laughed and told Katherine who had rushed to his side that he couldn't be happier for at last his brother was playing dirty and maybe that would make a better politician out of him.

*****"You are too careless my lord." Katherine said, bringing her lips forward and kissing them passionately, not caring that everyone turned their heads away in disapproval.

"Save those for when my sister comes. I want her to see how passionate my Spanish wife can be."

"She does not need to know." Katherine said with a wicked grin as she stepped back and turned around walking to her seat. "She has all the proof she needs in our children." She shouted making her husband laugh.

He turned to Edmund whose face was still stricken with shock. He sighed in relief when his brother faced him with a big smile on his face. "You arse, you nearly scared me!"

"I am still too young to live my beautiful wife a widow."

"Beautiful? But she's turning old, in fact I see a few dimples on her face. See there? One, two, three, four .."

Arthur slapped the back of his brother's head.

"Ouch! Watch with the head brother, it affects my thinking."

"What is left of it." Edmund said, shaking his head at Edward. He didn't know how to guard his words. He laughed thinking of the poor woman who was chosen for him. She'd have to live with him and tolerate his bad jokes. "It's not that bad." Edward aid, knowing what his older brothers were thinking as they returned to their tent.

"I think whoever is my chosen one will be very fortunate. Who can ask for more? The Duke of Gloucester!"

"Arrogant, conceited, self-centered-"

"Stop, stop with the flattery. I thought this was about my future bride. Whoever she is." He muttered, hoping to God they would never pick someone so ugly as half the new ladies in the Queen's attendance.

Typical of the Queen to choose the worst, he thought. After eighteen years of marriage she still didn't trust anyone including her husband whose growing reputation had made him more popular among the ladies. It didn't help that he had aged gracefully too and he'd never lost his warrior built from his young years.

"But dear brother we are speaking of your bride. She will have to be self-conceited, arrogant, to bear the likes of you."

"I don't do well with competition. My bride has to be less than me, otherwise I just can't, I am sorry, but I just can't accept her. If you haven't noticed I am not much of a team player."

"That we do know." Arthur said with feign sadness.

Edward chuckled. His brothers had a very narrow vision of him. They believed him to be self-centered, arrogant, a pompous arse but he was just looking out for number one. If war had taught him anything it was: no one, absolutely no one was going to look out for you except you.

Since their brother died, Edward had stopped believing in all mighty, all merciful God. He had taken their brother and taken his widow's sanity until Edmund entered the scene. But the most important he learned from Henry's death was that love was dangerous. He'd died protecting their older brother, taking an arrow that was meant for him and his wife (in her despair) had shunned herself from the world and her children.  
Edmund was ready to leave everything behind for their widow sister, Eleanor. Nothing else mattered to him, not his titles, not his wealth, but her happiness. This love that his brothers spoke so much about was dangerous and Arthur did not fall far behind. The Duke of Gloucester was certain that if the Queen was barren or could only give him girls, he would still love her. He was that sort of man who fought bravely and defended bravely for his wife to continue to be proud of him.

Poor man, thought the youngest of the three. He is so in love with her that if she asked him to go the ends of the Earth, he would just to prove her love.

Not him. Edward was happy in the state he was, he told his brothers, and he hoped he would always remain so.

"Marriage my dear brothers, is not for me. I leave you the joys and dullness of marriage life to Your Majesty." He said, giving a mock bow to his older brother.

* * *

Duke grinned at his brother. "What are you thinking brother?"

"I am thinking of that beautiful sunshine flower."

"More like dark lioness. Isn't the coat of arms of her late father, a lion?"

"Yes, tis so but she is a sunflower, look at the way her hair shines when she lets it loose."

The Duke of Gloucester let a raucous laughter. "My! Good Lord! Brother! I say Cupid has struck an arrow! You can't really have her, you know?"

"Why not? I have had many women before, why is she so different?"

"She is the late Philip the Handsome daughter."

"Yes, that I know and the name precedes him, his daughter as all of his brood are beautiful."

"Not her brother, he has the chin the side of an anvil!" The brothers laughed. Edward slapped his brother's back and put his arm around his brother as he took the mug of beer from the table and brought it to his lips. "Nay, brother you can't have this one. Our sister, the Queen, will have your head if you do. Not to mention our dreary grandmothers. You know they are not so fond of you."

*****"My Lady Grandmother is rarely fond of the pleasures of the flesh. How many times she married again? Three, four times?"

"Four."

"Four! There you go. Four times! And only one son to show."

"Don't be so harsh to the old bat. She will die very soon."

"Not soon enough. If she were dead I could wed Eleanor, free of worry."

"Eleanor it is now?" He gave an amused laughter. "You surprise me brother. You could have your pick of every wealthy wench, but you choose the runt at the end of the royal ladder. Mmm." He gave one big refreshing sigh and put the mug back on the table. "I say you should chose one royal bride, bed her, marry her, plant your seed in her belly and when she gives you a son, you and our sister Eleanor can be free to fuck as many times as you want."

"Have care with what you say brother, she is not only our sister, she is the mother of our niece and nephew and a Princess of the highest blood. Her ancestors are Plantagenet as ours, her blood runs just as deep."

"I have care for my words but I have no care for yours so I will go ahead and express my opinion. You are a Prince of the Royal House of Tudor. Period, uh, you don't get to say what you want, others say it for you, and the Princess our sister need I remind you will be wed (if she ever weds again) by someone of Parliament's choosing."

"I seem to recall one of the Sixth Henry's Uncles wanted to wed our great-grandmother, Katherine Valois, before she and her dashing Welshman eloped."

"Yes, that was very different though. She was not being pressured into remain single, she was a political tool and the politics were different back then –you forget the geography. We had France back then. We couldn't afford one of our former Queens marrying someone who would be a threat to the succession." He smiled. "Your situation is very different. Nobody can afford a scandal, not that I would mind, it's getting very dull here with the new addition to the Tudor family."

"The Queen is pregnant again?" Asked Edmund shocked. Last they had heard from their brother, their Queen could not bear anymore children. Her courses had run dry and in any case, even if by some miracle she could get her with child again, it would result in her death. Her last pregnancy had nearly killed her.

Seeing his shocked face, Edward shook his head. "None of that, is that child, Mary. I swear, they treat her like the Queen of Heaven."

"Well she is their youngest child. Remember father would never fawning over you every time you accomplished something _greater than all his brothers_." He said, imitating his father's harsh voice and earning a glare from his youngest brother that only made him laugh.

"Do not be such a wise arse. The child is beautiful, have you seen her lately? She speaks and walks faster than any child I have ever seen. I don't think her siblings learned to talk that fast and I'm not only talking about English, every idiot can speak his native tongue before his first birthday but this child can speak three different languages all at once. It's incredible."

"If I did not know better, I'd say you were won over by her Plantagenet charm."

"It's hard not to. She's the only one of our brother's children with such strong features."

"Grandmother Elizabeth, must be fawning over her as well."

"Oh yes, she doesn't stop boasting about her, our lady grandmother (Richmond) is worse. She swore last week to the French Ambassadors when she and Cardinal Wolsey met with them, that she was just like her when she was her age."

Edmund roared with laughter. His brother joined him and Eleanor walking across the fields, picking flowers, turned and could not help but smile herself at whatever it was he was saying. Just when he thought he couldn't laugh anymore! "That woman has never been blessed by Aphrodite's gift of beauty. I don't think she even knows what beauty is except in the soul –which is all she seems to care about now."

"Aye," Edward agreed calling on their servant to withdraw the wooden table from their gardens. Clouds were beginning to gather and were turning grey. They would have to get back inside soon.

"She probably sees the little Princess as her heir to be. Poor creature, I truly pity her."

"Do not be so sad, it is not a bad thing to have the indomitable Margaret Beaufort as your ally." Edmund made a face, his lips twitched. It looked like he wanted to say something but he decided against it and let Edward continue.

"And besides, the old bat will be seventeen next month. She is at that age where old giants want to retire and live the rest of their life in peace."

"I don't know if it's the wine, the beer or the excess of food you ate but you must be losing your marbles if you envision our grandmother living a life of peace and retirement."

"Ah brother but it happens. Henry, the second of his name to rule England, wished to live the rest of his days in peace with his fair Rosamund."

"Much good it did him. His wife soon found out and she led a rebellion against him."

"That was for entirely different reasons but in any case, he got to spend a time of solitude in those spare, little moments he got to share with his fair mistress." He pointed to his fair Eleanor. "You can live your rest of your days in peaceful retirement too. All you have to do is accept King Francois' proposal to wed his sister Jeanne and afterwards you and Eleanor can enjoy yourselves as much as you want. It is a fair deal."

"For you perhaps, but not for me I think."

"Then you think too much." Said Edward, starting to get frustrated with his love-struck brother. "Fool! Look at your options here. She is not in favor, her children detest her, her daughter barely acknowledges her, and although you may have the Queen's support, our brother and Parliament will never give you their support."

"You said Queen Katherine does, surely that is enough."

"Surely but no. The Queen holds the King's ear in all matters but not this one. For all her prowess in bed, she won't be able to dissuade them. He want a French marriage as much as our Lady Grandmother."

Edmund shook his head. "Nay that's our Lady Grandmother talking. I know for a fact because I've spoken with our brother on our last hunt for deer that he doesn't wish for a French match. That's all Wolsey and our Lady Grandmother's idea."

"Nay, brother, that's his idea too, only he's gotten better with time (you can thank Katherine for that) with lying."

"Katherine should have measured our brother's strength when she gave him credit for her victory. She should not have been so eager to give her council on warfare and encourage him wage war against France."

"Katherine of Aragon, Castile, and Leon is a romantic at heart." He explained. "You can't fault her. Besides, we had good fun. How many French we have killed since then?"

"You are incorrigible." He freed himself from his brother's embrace and ruffled his dark hair. He was the only one of the first Tudor siblings besides Mary, that inherited their father's Welsh features. "They say I am in need of a wife, I think it is you who is in urgent need." He said as they headed back to the castle. Not soon after the doors were locked behind them, thunder struck and it began raining violently.

"It is that time of the month. You got to love English weather, I am sure it makes you miss home." Edward told her.

"I am home, brother." Eleanor answered with a smile, shifting her eyes to Edmund who tried so hard to avoid her smile but found it difficult to when her eyes, filled with lust, were telling him to come and visit her at night.

"I have a lot of things to live for, England has given me many things, one which I am most grateful for." She said, her sapphire eyes piercing Edmund's crystal blue.

* * *

"Last night was a mistake."

"A mistake I enjoyed." She answered wheeling around as he came closer, the candlelight illuminated his delicate features. He was so feminine, so beautiful. His soft features and soft voice soothed her along with his soft touch made her enter a state of ecstasy, pure bliss that she had not felt before. Even with Henry.

Edmund wrapped his arms around her waist, his face descended and began to plant kisses on her face, slowly descending to her neck where he briefly stopped and closed his eyes. Then he opened them, completely mesmerized by her beauty and her tone of voice as she begged him to not to stop.

She moaned, shutting her mind from the outside world as he took her to bed and made sweet love to her.

* * *

Katherine awoke. Their bodies intertwined. Arthur slowly withdrew and came to stand. "My legs." He said making his way to his wardrobe, with great effort he turned his head away from his beautiful Queen. Last night motivated by his grandmother's comments and their need for each other, Katherine and Arthur had consummated their union not once or twice, but five times.

His throat was dry. She had exhausted him both physically and mentally. Who knew that behind that conservative image there was a fiery spirit that still burned after eighteen years of marriage and eight children? –He thought.

"I have something to ask of you."

"Seems you have a lot to ask of me today love." He said calling his servants. They carefully entered avoiding gazing at their naked Queen who'd aged gracefully.

Her ladies entered the chamber after the King had left. They giggled as they'd boldly asked how their mistress has spent her night and she said "with pleasure".

"You'd been in Cupid's bed Your Majesty."

"Not Cupid child, but Eros." She said with a smile then told them to leave her in peace. Eighteen years of marriage. She pondered. Eight children, seven pregnancies and no miscarriages to stain her successful record.

She was placed on a pedestal.  
Great things were expected of her and she did not disappoint. In the first year of her marriage Arthur got her with child and in less than two years into their marriage she was enceinte once again. And once again she gave birth to another male heir to secure the Tudor dynasty, but most importantly her place in the world.

She was betrothed since she was a child of two to Arthur. It was her destiny to become Queen and now thanks to her, the Tudor Dynasty was at its highest peak. And it would only get higher. She intended every one of her children –except Mary- be wed to the greatest royal houses in Europe. None would be spared. They would be the grandfathers of all Europe.

* * *

"I'll see the priest when the time is right. Didn't my mother say that she once had an intrusive chaplain? Is that why she wants me to be wary of all her chaplains?" She asked Mistress Stanhope, or as her best friends called her Stanhopeless. A rudeness on their part that Mary played no part in. She rather liked Mistress Stanhope. She was downright honest and her rudeness amused her. She often wished she did not have to be so kind and more forthright as she was.

"Yes, that is what mother says but mother doesn't know a lot about many things. It was her fault for falling into the Fray Diego's dirty games." Ferdinand, or "Nando" as his family called him, said, coming into her chambers. He sat in between them, eager to be closer to his sweet angel of mercy, Anne.

The girl's cheeks blushed furiously and she lowered her eyes modestly. She knew how to act around the Prince and Princess, and the Prince was after all at the end of the royal ladder. No harm could come with flirting with His Highness, the Earl of Chester.

"I think Her Majesty was very wise, who knows what she was thinking when she did keep him by her side? After all, it is Her Majesty who's always belied the old saying that in war and politics, everything goes. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer –I think she was very wise." She repeated giving her best friend, Princess Mary a small smile.

The Princess laughed a short sharp laugh. Gossipy Anne, how she loved her. She always had the best things to say about people –and the worst. You had to watch out for her snappy comments, but that was only if you were on her bad side. She thanked God that she wasn't.

Just then before the Prince and Earl of Chester could have a chance to rebuke her (not liking to be contradicted in front of his know-it-all sister); their Aunt, the Duchess Dowager of York came in.

"Aunt." The royal children bowed their heads, Anne the lowest because of her simple, common status.

"Children. Have you seen your cousins?"

"You mean Joanna and Harry?" Mary asked, sticking her tongue out to Ferdinand, boasting she'd gotten to talk first.

"Yes, your cousins. Have you seen any of them?" She asked not having a care for her sister's children antics.

"I have seen them, Your Grace." Anne, ever clever and not missing an opportunity, stepped forward.

"Very well, can you tell me where?" Eleanor asked, having little patience for her as well.

Anne pointed outside to the window behind them. Eleanor walked to the window where she saw her children –as Mistress Stanhope had said- playing with none other than their great-grandmother.

"I didn't know the Queen would be visiting."

"She's been here for quite a while, my lady." Ferdinand said, stepping on Mary's foot before she could speak. She gave a small whimper but said nothing more. She would have her revenge later. All good things in time as her mother and great-grandmother, Lady Richmond, always said.

For a woman so old, she had great stamina. She chased her children across the fields and laughed endlessly with them.

She should be dead already –she thought after she left the children's playroom, coming to the gardens where she greeted the former Queen.

She was always respectful and mindful of the older woman's former title. She had been after all a Queen and her mother was descended from the highest nobility in France. It was only fitting she paid the respects owed to her even if the old cow did not show the same for her.

"My lady granddaughter. What a pleasure it is to see you." The former Queen lied, smiling a conniving smile as she put her seven year old son down. She told the children's nurses after they had acknowledged their mother, to take them inside.

"They look very happy around you." Eleanor said.

Elizabeth did not miss the disdain in her voice. "They needed a mother, I and the Queen happened to be there for there when you weren't."

Before she could speak, Elizabeth added –"I don't suppose you are here looking for an apology."

"Nay, I am not my lady, I know it would do me no good. I would receive none."

"You are very right. I meant what I said before. Your children are better off with Her Majesty. She takes care of them, looks after the necessities. Their seventh birthday, you missed it."

"I know."

"What are you doing that was more important than your children's birthday?" She inquired with wicked grin, her analytical gaze on Eleanor.

"I was simply indisposed."

"Indisposed? Ah," Understanding dawned on Elizabeth Wydeville's features. "Indisposed. I suppose a young stallion kept you up. How do you like riding him? Are his legs fast, his made smooth?"

"My lady I-"

"Say no more. I was young once. I am not oblivious to what goes between a man and a woman especially a widow in need of comfort. You forget I was a widow once."

"I don't but I beg to differ with your analogy, besides our present states, there is nothing that makes us alike. "

"Certainly not. You are a Princess, born in privilege, you have not known a day of poverty in your life, I on the other have when my father alongside the Lancasters for Queen Margaret of Anjou's son and my mother was her favorite lady in waiting, she was also at one time before she married my father the Duchess of Bedford. So no, we are nothing alike. If you ask me, the Queen of England who has known hardship, who has been in the battlefield, who has known death and always been at its door but has never been afraid by it, has more in common with my person."

"Then why did you say you were?" Perhaps the woman was entering senility. It was not unheard of. Women who were too old often lost their marbles and when their uterus got too big and old, it went to their throats, clouding the passage of blood to the brain. It was well known amongst the most renowned physicians of their day.

"Because you love him. Don't deny it. You love him and you've fucked him."

"How dare you-"

"Do not raise your voice at me. I am still your elder and had it not been for Margaret Beaufort's son and the last Lancaster bastard, I would have still retained my title and outranked you, you little chit. So keep your silence and listen to me very carefully. One word, just one word my granddaughter and I can go directly to the Queen and you will be shipped back to Austria where your brothers will lock you down into a convent to make sure you are not with child and use you as they please. It's a sad picture, isn't it? If, however you listen closely and follow all my directions, I might just help you."  
"How?" Eleanor asked quickly. Perhaps too quickly. It made the smile in Elizabeth Wydeville's face grow wider.

"Come with me, we have many matters to discuss. First is that dress, you look like a Spanish nun in that dress. Take it off and what is this of rejecting the new fashions? No one wants to see a beautiful young girl dressed like a washed up old hag."

"This is the fashion in Burgundy."

"Aye, when you left. Now follow me and don't ask questions, it irritates me when people ask too much and in you a little silence might do you good. It might just humble you for once."

Eleanor followed her grandmother-in-law, unsure whether she really intended to help or she was looking for another excuse to mock her.

* * *

Katherine hugged her child closer to her breast. Despite being only three years old, Mary was still a child and she couldn't yet bring herself to think of her as anything other than a baby. She was such a sweet, she never complained, never cried, and unlike her other children she was always eager to please. She never refused a smile and she would giggle when her parents' faces turned away to return their attention to her.

She was a Godsend –she whispered to her youngest sister-in-law, Catherine.

She had yet to be married, but she had grown close to her son, Prince Arthur, nicknamed Artie to avoid confusing him with his father.

Her mother and grandmother in law, encouraged the relationship and even the Countess of Richmond (despite her initial reservations) stood by their decision to join these two in holy matrimony.

They would have to wait, Katherine had told them, until they came of age. They were still too young.

_"Sixteen?" Margaret Beaufort scoffed, covering her mouth as she coughed. "You were married at sixteen were you not, Katherine?"_

_"Aye, I was but I do not wish that age on any of my children especially Her Highness Catherine if she is to become my daughter. Sixteen is too young and Artie has not yet had his first."_

_"You fear your sister could take your place?" Margaret asked._

_"Of course not. It is natural that a mother clings to her children."_

_"Especially her sons." Margaret interrupted._

_Katherine looked at the Countess of Richmond. "Why yes of course. He is my firstborn, and therefore he will always be very dear to my heart. But that does not mean that I will keep him from the pleasures of this world."_

_"Your morals sound contrary to your reputation."_

_"I am being realistic Lady Margaret. My son is a man and men are naturally attracted to young and beautiful ladies who are willing. It is their natural order of things but the lady he will marry will be a good and pious one."_

_"How many of those are left in England?"_

_"Many I can assure you, I have seen to it myself." Margaret said firmly, silencing the young ladies whispering behind the Queen._

_"And just who do you intend him to marry, not Catherine, surely you are looking to foreign alliances?"_

_Katherine smirked. "The King of France and my nephew, the newly elect Emperor are too busy fighting each other. If we accept one offer we threaten our little country's peace, if however we say we consider, now that makes all the difference."_

_"You are asking us your husband to toy with France and Spain?" Katherine said nothing but her smile was enough._

_"Please tell me Bishop Fisher has not agreed to this. I know he would not vote in favor of this-"_

_"Lady Margaret you are already contradicting yourself. Please, sit. I assure you Bishop Fisher has said nothing, as a new Prince to the Church his vows are to rule over our Holy Mother Church in England, nothing more. This is a matter for Kings, not the Church."_

_"I disagree. The pope will not agree. Leo is a Medici and it is said he favors the Emperor-"_

_"The Pope as the rest of his brood favor whoever has more money in their pockets. His family descends from bankers, they only care about money and at present England is very wealthy, enough to influence the pope's mind."_

_"You are playing a dangerous game."_

_"No, my lady, it is you who play a dangerous game. Or do you think I am oblivious to your intentions?" She said with a smile. "I know you've been speaking with Wolsey, both of you favor a French match between my youngest daughter and the Dauphin."_

_"It would be the wisest choice. The Dauphin is only two years younger, there would not be much age difference. You and Arthur were only a year apart."_

_"That was different. I do not want the same kind of match arranged for my daughter, besides Mary is the youngest of Our brood and as so her place in politics is not important."_

_"You are wrong Katherine, a Princess' place is always important. Marry her off to the Dauphin, they have already agreed to pay twice the amount your cousin has offered."_

_"No." She said, kindly but firmly rejecting Lady Richmond's offer._

_"No?!"_

_"No Lady Margaret. That will be everything for today, I am very tired and I am sure Mary is very tired herself. Are you not sweetheart?"_

_She nodded, melting everyone's hearts with her smile._

_"Good day Lady Margaret. Wave at your great-grandmother, Princess."_

_Mary raised her thin hand and waved at all the inhabitants in her mother's royal chamber as they rose to leave._

She intended Mary to marry. As a Princess, it was her duty to marry into the great houses of Europe, but why rush into it? She thought. Mary was only three years old and there was still plenty of time before she came of age and parted from her family. Why ruin the few time they had together thinking of marriages?

"Promise me you will never marry and leave me and your father." She said after she returned to the present, looking down at her daughter, who was playing with her older brother Ferdinand and that brown-haired, cheerful girl Anne Stanhope. She was their royal ward but throughout the years she had turned into a royal nuisance and at present she was busy ensnaring her youngest son.

"Of course I will not mother but the day may come when I will have to. I cannot live off royal charity for long and I think I should like to marry. Perhaps, who knows," she shrugged. "I will make a grand marriage like you and father did and make my new country proud."

"Perhaps." Katherine said. "But that is a far away prospect. Me and your father would prefer if you never marry and remain in our realm."

"That sounds too dull. I want to explore new places, have adventures of my own." Mary declared, then turned her head back to her brother and best friend and resumed their game.

Katherine sighed. Mary was the youngest and humblest of their children, but she was also the hardest. She was very inquisitive and she worked harder than most. There was nobody in the Kingdom who didn't like her or fell in love with their young Princess of Kent at first sight. She was the only one the royal ladies to have a title other than Princess and have a royal allowance bigger than their own, and given manners grander than even any Prince.

Yet her sisters didn't envy her. She knew they would make royal marriage and go off and have their adventures and preside over bigger courts while she would be stuck here, living off her parents' royal charity and looking after them when they grew too old to preside over royal functions and government.

She envied them but she did not let that deter her from her present game. Her Knight took Anne and Ferdinand's Queen and after she placed her Tower and other Knight in their King's path, she knew she had won and cried "I win!" with a triumphant smile.

Ferdinand huffed and crossed his arms. Anne whispered something soothing in his ear and he instantly relaxed.

Katherine gave her a warning glance but like a lost puppy Ferdinand had fallen into her claws and he whispered in her ear, bringing her attention back to him.

The girl was good, but Katherine was better. At present though, she had greater things to focus on.

* * *

He kissed the top of her head. He promised they would be together.

They laid together in bed, their bodies mingled together, holding each other hands as he came and released into her without mercy.

I said, I would always love you. He said lowly as he kissed her eyelids, his lips trailing down to her neck. "And I always keep my promises." He said to himself going down to her abdomen, where the fruit of their labor lay.

* * *

"Is this true? Have they eloped?" Arthur demanded.

"That's what the letter says."

"How could they do this? Edmund, my own brother!"

Katherine and his grandmothers went to comfort him but he rejected their comfort. "Your Majesty, if I may." Wolsey interjected. "The Duke is a vivacious man and the Princess has long been in need of a husband. Perhaps this is not a complete loss. After all, the bastard sister of the King of France would have been no suitable wife for a King's son."

"You are right Excellency, however it is not their union that I cannot forgive but that it was done in secret." He said bringing his fist to his mouth. Why? Why had his brother not trust him? Were they not Tudors? They had always been united. Since he could remember, they never kept anything from each other.

To make matters words, his youngest brother came in with the couple in question.

Arthur grabbed his middle brother by his collar and pinned him against the wall. Edmund tried to explain but Arthur would not hear it. He'd ruin everything. Who cared about the bloody alliance with France? It was a tool he'd use to call on Francis when the time came, which he was sure it would soon since he did not trust his wife's nephew and his Hapsburg relations.  
Francis' bastard sister, he was told, was very fond of his brother and he very fond of her. It was said he would do everything for her. Like Salome, he would give his kingdom to her if she asked him. As Edmund's wife, he would have had France licking from his fingers.

But now he had lost the opportunity and all because of Edmund's elopement with his sister-in-law! He had nothing now!

"I understand you are angry brother and I would be too given your position but listen to what I have to say. I love Eleanor. We love each other dearly and we would not gave it any other way. We came here against all logic for your blessing. If you will not give it to us then we will leave you in peace and shall not bother you anymore-"

Arthur interrupting him, letting him go. "Do not give me fancy words. It is not up to me to grant you your wish but Parliament. I may have forgiven you but Parliament will not." He said dejectedly, only realizing seconds later what he'd spoken.

"Does this mean we have your approval then?"

It took him a long time to answer. The King was reluctant to give it. He thought of everything his father had to do keep his family safe and secure his dynasty. In one swift hour, Edmund had ruined it.

But he was still his brother and he could not abandon him. The country looked on him for strength. What would they say if they knew his brother had eloped without his permission? What would the rest of Europe think of a monarch who couldn't control his own household?  
There were remnants of the York dynasty that still coveted his throne. If they caught wind of this, they would surely use it against him. Just as he was about to say no again, his wife emerged from the shadows and whispered in his ear.

"Your Lady Grandmother gave me a delightful idea, my love. Let them marry. Say to the King you thought his illegitimate sister, Mistress Jeanne unsuitable for Edmund and that instead to make up for his loss, you will give him a bigger boon." She did not wait for him to ask, she could see the smile dancing on his lips as he realized what she was proposing. But he needed to hear the proposal from her lips because her words always made more sense to him than his own. "Our oldest son Harry is not officially betrothed to Our sister, Catherine. Nobody knows but you and me. The King is a capricious man and he likes nothing but be pampered, his wife is a good and pious woman and his mother a shrewish woman. She will see the wisdom in this proposition. But should he refuse give him another chess piece."

"What?" He asked, eager to hear her voice once more.

"Our daughter, Princess Mary" She said raising her voice, walking to the center of the room. "The Princess Mary is young and beautiful and she has many other fine qualities which will appeal to the French. Their Ambassadors have already begged to see her, when they do I am certain they will send even finer reports. The French are known for their big compliments."

Arthur and the rest of the people looked at their Queen stunned. Even Wolsey could not help but show surprise on his face. The woman was truly Ferdinand's daughter who had been a wily fox and the cause of many headaches to her father-in-law and her husband when he'd been alive.

"See to it that it is done, Cardinal." She said walking to the Cardinal, in a sweet, calm tone yet she bore a calculating gaze.

"Your Majesty." He said bowing before the Queen then the King and then departing the room to do the Queen's bidding.

Katherine turned to Eleanor. Foolish woman, yet she has served her purpose. She thought. She could not excuse her figure but she did understand her. Had she been young and indulged as she had been perhaps she too would have acted the same, but she wasn't. She was Catalina of Aragon, Leon y Castilla, daughter of the greatest monarchs the world had ever seen and subjected to the most rigorous and strict education that was responsible for turning into what she was today.

Her husband shook his head after he dismissed everyone, unable to believe what had just happened. The situation had slipped from his fingers but before it could turn into a scandal Katherine had turned it into a great opportunity. He looked at his wife ashamed. "How did you do that?"

"Experience my lord husband. If there is one thing you've taught me is patience. And I've had plenty with a family as interesting as yours."

"They are your family too, my sweet lady."

She shook her head and grabbed his hands. "Nay, you and our children and England are my family and I will do what is best for them."

"How do you know that France will react favorably to this news?"

"I don't but if I know anything about women, the King's mother will. He wants France to have a foothold in Europe just as much as we do. She believes herself in capable of being ousted and she is a remarkable woman of no equal in France except her daughter, and even she does not compare herself to her. But for all her attributes the woman is arrogant and we can use that to our advantage." She explained. "She has no love for the Spaniards and will sooner hang herself than see one of her grandsons wed to one but she knows our children are no Spaniards, they have been raised in the English fashion and they are as much English as any of the common folk."

"And besides," she went on to add. "Your Lady Grandmother supports this union?"

"Which one? I would not expect both, they are always bickering when they are not plotting against each other to gain my favor."

"And you play the game wickedly, how fiendish of you making crones out of those two women."

"I do not recall my lady complaining when I suggested it."

"No, but it has become very tedious. They do need discipline I agree, but dire times are coming. The time of civil strife is over. This is the time for brutality, in war as in politics. Louise of Savoy will be convinced that we mean business when she sees Our royal grandmothers in the field of cloth and gold in Calais."

"But Mary;" he said, unable to fathom parting from his daughter. Yes, it was a faraway prospect but she was his little girl, his youngest daughter and therefore he always thought she'd be the one they'd get to keep.

"You do not give our daughter enough credit. Mary will do her part. She will be four next year and she is already showing an interest in politics, besides a change of scenery might do good for her."

"Why do you say that?" He asked, seeing her forehead crease.

"Just because, I think Mary should see new places and she's been begging me to take her on a private tour around the country with her friends."

"They will have to come then. Only the best for my Princess." He explained when his wife gave him a questioning look. He mistook it for what it really was –concern.

She had no desire of handing Mary to the French. She preferred an alliance with her cousin, the newly elected Emperor but she understood politics and for the time being she would play the sweet and docile wife for these French and her husband's council men who, including Wolsey, favored this "peace" treaty.

Her biggest concern however was not the French but Mary's playmates. Initially she'd seen Mistress Stanhope as a good influence on her daughter. She helped foster an independent spirit on Mary but coincidentally she had also turned Mary ambitious and too flirtatious for her own good, yet whenever she tried to bring the subject of their royal ward to her husband, guilt swelled in her throat and she found herself unable to speak. The girl had lost her father after all and her mother, she might as well be an orphan because the woman expressed no interest in her whatsoever after she made it clear her only interest lay on her husband and the (male) heirs she had given him. Anne was all alone in the world. She had no fortune, her mother and stepfather had seen to that. She was living off royal charity. If she suddenly found herself abandoned by her royal benefactors, who knew what would become of that dark brown haired, plain-spoken, vivacious little girl?

Katherine did not want to think about it. Perhaps it was for the best, until she could find a suitable husband for her, that she remained in her daughter's household.

But there was another thing that would plague the former Princess of Spain in many years to come -one that she'd not notice on the times she had visited her daughter's residence.

Her daughter had made a new friend. His name was George Boleyn. Sir Thomas Boleyn's only son, and like his father he had an eye for highborn women and since he had first seen the Princess his heart had been struck by Cupid's arrow. When he found out that she was betrothed to the Dauphin, he cried bitter tears. Although he was only five, he understood how the world worked and it pained him that his childhood friend and Platonic love would be handed to that pompous Prince. A mere boy who'd grow into an arrogant, self-conceited man like his father and would see her only as a womb to get heirs from. If she was his, he would love her, regardless whether she would give him heirs or not.

But you are just a common's son. His mind said. "And a traitor at that."He added looking at his companion as they sat next to his brother and Uncles, Prince Henry, the Dukes of Somerset and Gloucester, respectively.  
What could he ever give her? He thought gazing down, finding sudden interest at his feet as the Princess and her brother, the Prince of Wales, were escorted to the golden platform that had been placed in the center of the tent, where they met their betrotheds.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Margaret Beaufort by Elizabeth Norton, notes, notes, Francesca. Love, Remember Me by Bertrice Small, Sister Queens by Julia Fox, and Feast for Crows by George R. R. Martin.  
**

**This was the longest chapter yet because there was a lot to cover. The chapters to come will be in medium in length just like the others. I saw the number of viewers for this fic and the reviews and it saddens me how it's declined. I update according to the number of reviews I have since I've been getting nothing but bad news yesterday I don't care whether you like this fic or hate it because this is not about your favorite pairing but a review would be nice, especially since I have abandoned my conscience for next chapters which have changed dramatically from the storyline I originally have planned. I don't care if I insult people's personal views or ideologies in the coming chapters, this is a story that centers in a very sexual and gritty period so if you think you can handle it, please continue reading and leave a review.  
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	10. Chapter 9

*Catherine had been Christened on the same day of her birth, on February 2 on the Feast of Candlemas, in the middle of night. She had been delivered by the same midwife who had delivered Arthur, but the birth had been a difficult one and shortly after her mother had become alarmingly ill. She decided her daughter had been baptized immediately and she was in the Church of St Peter ad Vincula at the Tower. She was the only child besides her brother to be born, Henry VII firstborn to be born in the Tower. Like Alpha and Omega, they were the first and the last to be born in that awful place.

When her father found out her mother was ill he sent for Dr Halesworth, a physician from Kent who travelled night day by road and river to reach her bedside. He arrived just in time and they bled her, but she was too weak and it was not until a week following her Christening that she had finally recovered.

With both she and her mother out of danger, the King turned into a more grateful man.

There were very few memories Catherine had of her grandfather, most of them involved his ministers who would inspect and check on her daily, and inquire on her tutors to make certain she was growing into a healthy, intellectual Princess, the equal of her brothers and older sisters.

Although she did not boast of beauty like her older sisters did, her appearance her father said was Godsend and someday –he'd whispered in her ear shortly before he became ill- she would be the greatest of all Christian Princesses.

"Your sisters were born to be Queens of foreign lands but you my dear, were born to be Queen of England."

"And a great Queen you shall be." He added, repeating the same phrase as he lay on his deathbed before he took his final breath.

The young Princess, only a child of six then, was too young to comprehend his words' meaning. As she got older, with sister-in-law constantly pushing her in her nephew's path, did she finally understand.

She was meant to be Queen of England. It was her birthright. But, with the Treaty of Universal and Perpetual Peace all hopes of fulfilling her father's dreams, were dashed.

How could she compete with someone so beautiful, delicate, a true flower?

She was not delicate. She was rude and brash and while the Princess of France was pure gold. Gentle, sweet, kind, Catherine was bronze. Coarse, rude, and sharp-tongued. She was no ideal wife. Always cautious to the point of obsession, she was accused of being constantly suspicious, reclusive and even rapacious towards her own shadow. They were right. She had just cause, she believed, to be suspicious. Her father's daughter, he'd taught her to always be on alert for danger, and his fear for his dynasty's security and overprotective behavior he'd passed on to her.

When information reached her that her father had died, she was the first one to shout murder although there was no basis for that. Her grandmother had scolded her and threatened to slap her if she didn't behave according to her station. Not long after the funeral and her brother and sister's joint coronation did she come to the realization that there was no cause for alarm. Her father had died of natural causes. His greatest dreams accomplished, the Tudor dynasty was secure. Arthur and Katherine had ushered England into a new age. Things had never been better. Yet she could not help but feel out of place at the moment for seeing her nephew so happy with his French betrothed. She cast her eyes down to hide her sadness.

She was only a child for God's sake! How could they expect him to marry her? Just look at her, she is sickly, weak. She'll probably die of consumption or measles like her sister and give him nothing but dead babies!

Seeing her balled fists her grandmother scolded her and told Bishop Fisher to pray for her. She was about to give them an angry retort when she heard her nephew's laughter mixed with that of his child betrothed.

I can't stay here. She decided and excused herself from the festivities and curtsied to the King and Queen. She didn't give them any explanations, she just left.

Mary got along very well with the Princess Charlotte. Poor mite. She heard her father say. She was very nervous. Next to her brother she was nothing but an insignificant insect. Her brother surpassed her in age and wisdom. Though it was not his age or wisdom that concerned her but his height. He was tall! –She'd exclaimed to Mary. Taller than any French man, including her papa, she had ever seen.

"That is my brother." She said proudly, raising her chin up. "He takes after my father and our great-grandsire, Edward the Fourth, in all good things."

"He seems enormous, your father I mean. And your mama so … little."

"My mother says that size doesn't matter in a woman. She says that mind and womb are the only two things that do."

"Your mother told you that?" Mary nodded showing her pride again. "My mama says that pride is one of the biggest flaws in a woman, you my lady show it too much." She admonished, inclining her head as she waited for the older Princess to speak.

"You know I am right." She said, ignoring her earlier statement, her gaze up. "Mother says that it doesn't matter what a Princess looks like as long as she is smart, can dance right, hold a conversation, is properly dressed, virtuous, pious, and…" she made a pause for dramatic effect.

"And?" Charlotte asked, raising her head up in curiosity. "And what, my lady?" She asked, less patient.

"And is strong and healthy and can bring her husband a son."

"I don't think there is any Princess who is that accomplished. It is too much to ask of a Princess, surely there is no one, no woman, that can be that accomplished."

"There is." Said Isabella coming to sit next to her sister. "Our lady mother, God bless her, she is all that and more and our great-grandmother, Lady Richmond, were it not for her title she would make the most accomplished of all royals." She said pointing her gaze to Margaret Beaufort who sat at the Queen's left. Next to her were the Queen Dowager and her lady mother, the former Yorkist Queen, Lady Wydeville.

"Not just women." Isabella quickly added when she saw the French Princess' lips moving. "If it were not for passing the claim unto her son, she would have taken the crown herself. Alas, fate was cruel and she had to pass on her claim to her son but I suspect there is not a day that she doesn't regret not taking the crown for herself."

"It's a good thing that she didn't. Can you imagine England under our lady Richmond?" Mary asked with an amused grin. The three of them laughed. It was a scary but interesting picture. Secretly, Mary wished it could have been so, then she and her sisters would have been freer to pursue their destinies outside the confines of their music and the school room.

She enjoyed her lessons but she wanted to know more about the world, explore the Indies, travel to new places, discover new worlds like the ones her cousin the Emperor had discovered.

She sighed, turning to her sister and Princess Charlotte who now sat next to Isabella. She guessed she would always be confined to her own world. Might as well enjoy it. Mary thought and joined their conversation.

* * *

The young Boleyn had tried to steal a glance from the Princess. It had all been in vain. She was too engaged in her conversation with her fellow Princess and her oldest sister to notice him.

"Jealous of a little mare, George?" His oldest sister Anne asked wickedly, grinning as her brother as he turned his face away. "Ah, so you covet the Princess of England. Be careful little brother, the King is very protective of his younger brood, especially that one. He won't let go of her so easily."

"Who says I want her?"

"I can see it in your eyes George. You desire her." It was not a question.

George was mute. He didn't know how to respond. No one could read him better than Anne. "She is pretty. Blue eyes, not sapphire like her mother's but dark gray like her Tudor ancestors, and her hair –redder than any flame, her skin the color of snow. Any man could look at her and fall in love with her at first sight. It seems you've fallen under her spell too."

"I-I don't know what you are speaking of sister."

She laughed. "You do." Then she turned the conversation to the French Princess. "Poor Princess, so little. A poor mite, she will not last one bedding with our strong Prince."

George spun his head around. "Anne, don't say that. That is treason."

She laughed harder, looking down discretely at her hands, not forgetting her manners. "What? You know 'tis true. Everyone in the realm says that she'd be a poor choice for Queen. If she survives her children are likely to be weak and die on their first month."

"That is not likely to happen, the pope has blessed the union-"

"The pope?" She looked at George with an even wider grin. "The pope is in bed with France. Of course he'd bless the union."

"Anne sometimes the things you speak of, they frighten me." He said although he felt no fear. His sister had the awesome power of persuasion and had a calmness about her that none of their family had.  
After their father had been condemned, Her Majesty had taken them in and fostered them. She had paid for their education and placed Anne in the High Courts of Mechelen and France. It was in France where she met her husband, Henry Percy. He'd been engaged to that shrew Mary Talbot but after Anne had surprised her flirting with one of the most scandalous courtier, she wrote a letter to Her Majesty denouncing her companion's behavior. The Queen as she'd predicted was outraged and immediately recalled Mary Talbot. Her family was disappointed and with no prospects and her reputation sullied, the Queen got the idea through her lady-in-waiting, Elizabeth Boleyn, to marry Anne to young Henry Percy instead.  
It didn't take long to convince the Queen. She'd heard of Anne's progress in Mechelen and the good service she was bringing to the French Queen. She gave her blessing and the couple was married a year later in a private ceremony. She was now Lady Henry Percy. And very soon, George thought, she will be Lady Northumberland. One of the richest and most influential ladies in the land.

Naturally, Anne wanted the same for her brother. She wanted him to rise through the ranks as she did. He was the Boleyn heir and the Boleyn name must continue. She remembered her father's words "Growing Strong". And the Boleyn family for centuries had proved to be a numerous family. Their blood was hot and their seed was strong. And the Tudor women were made of iron, strong enough to carry their seed. If George played his cards right he'd have the Princess of Kent dancing from his tune.

* * *

"Princess Mary, His Highness, the Dauphin and Duke of Brittanny has come to bid you good night." He showed the young Prince in. He was escorted by his father who had made time for him in his mistress' absence.

Mary greeted them both.

The Crown Prince, her betrothed was little more than a child. He was only a head taller than her but he looked so thin and pale that Mary almost thought he was made of glass and he would break at the slightest touch.

"My lady, I am terribly sorry that we did not exchange any words other than our formal acknowledgment in the event your father's hosted in our honor. I came here to give you this, as an apology." His father snapped his fingers and on cue a servant came bearing a bouquet of roses, white and red symbolizing the houses of York and Lancaster which she descended from. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Oh my Prince, there is nothing to forgive." She said enchanted by his gesture and getting lost in the roses' aroma. "Your Highness is very kind, I am not worthy of such gifts."

"Nonsense. You are the fairest Princess to walk on the face of the Earth and we give the best to you." His father said, thinking with longing if he'd only encountered someone so beautiful as the Princess Mary. For the Princess was destined to be a beauty. Then he would not have to have women after a woman.

The Princess of Kent thanked them and then in the most Princely fashion curtsied to them and bid them goodnight.

* * *

"You are not being selfish. You are in love" Said Mary in a matter of fact way as Isabella blushed furiously and looked away. She didn't like Mary seeing through her but she was the only one of their sisters who was observant as their mother and great-grandmother, Margaret Beaufort. Their other great-grandmother said she owed her wits to good breeding. It was all about good breeding, she said.

She hoped Mary wouldn't tell their parents of her platonic love. She knew her father preferred Mary above all his children but he was still highly protective of them because they were bargaining tools he would use to make treatises and alliances with the great Houses of Europe. As a result Isabella's reputation had to be as the rest of the royal women in her family, above reproach.

Mary sighed. "I wish I was in love."

"I think you are my little bumpkin. I think our little sister is in looove." Isabella and the rest of her sisters laughed.

"I am not little, papa says I am taller than the rest of the girls in my train!"

"That's because you are papa's little girl. He will not say anything to displease his little cub." Johanna said sharing a laugh with her twin sister, Katherine. Except for their eye color, they were completely alike.

"Take that back!"

"No!" Johanna shouted then Isabella said, "Oh look little kitten is about to have a fit. Meow!" They laughed harder and Mary growled which sounded more like a kitten's meow which only made things worse. She dashed out of the room giving the door a loud slam and headed to George's chambers.

Damn them! She knocked on his door twice and no answer. She noticed the door was open so without waiting for answer, she entered inside and found George with his sister, the Lady Percy and his mother, Lady Elizabeth Boleyn.

"Your Grace." They said, curtsying.

"I want to speak with George alone!"

Elizabeth and Anne looked at each other.

"I said now! Go!"

"Good luck." Anne whispered in his ear. It seemed George had a young virago to contend with. Poor George, their mother whispered in his ear. To have to tolerate that monstrous brat's presence. "I do not think she is a brat mother, a little naïve perhaps. She has that strong presence George so much admires in women."

"You surprise me Anne, if I didn't know better my child I would say you are encouraging the friendship."

"Now you truly wound me mother. You think I would go through all this trouble just so George could enjoy a harmless friendship with the dwarf Princess?"

"Hush Anne, someone might hear you." Said the Lady Elizabeth, her head turning on all sides.

Her daughter's laughter made her turn at her daughter, giving her a reprimanding look. "You are truly amusing mother."

"I do not find anything-" But before she could finish her mother, Anne said.

"George is the only Boleyn heir my father left, like me he wants to mingle with the high heads in politics but thanks to our father and the Queen's charity, he's had no luck."

"The Queen took us when no one else had-"

"Ah yes, the Queen is so charitable, we must be grateful but tell me. Do you think the Queen took us out of the purity of her heart because she has such a pure spirit?" She chuckled. "Don't be so naïve as the Princess of Kent mother, it's not within you to be so naïve. The Queen likes to buy people's loyalty with her charity, she's become a master at it, if her husband were not so blindly in love" she gave an amused chuckle, "he'd see the reason behind his wife's action. Nothing the Spanish Queen does is without reason. She is like Livia but with the gift of kindness which makes her more menacing."

"God's blood child, pray that no one hears you. Do you want to end up as your father?" Anne only gave a wry smile in response. "Be it as it may, the Queen is the only person who ever took interest in us, do you want to give it all away for jealousy? I've seen how you look at her, you are envious that it isn't you who is seated upon that throne."

"My, my, my lady mother is for once correct." She gave one sharp laugh then she grew serious. "I was envious of the Spanish Infanta. She is after all no more beautiful than the common English rose. Her children are beautiful, though they could have been more beautiful if our King had married a true English rose."

"Kings marry for the sake of alliances, not for love. Do not be foolish Anne."

"Oh but I am very serious mother. You are right though about my ambitions, I am like my father, God bless his soul." She raised her hand to her forehead and mock crossed herself. "But I am wiser mother, I do not intend to leave my family destitute. The old bat will die and I will soon become Lady Northumberland. As a result I need to have prominent family members which give me good standing in higher circles."

"You already have good standing. I should think that becoming a Countess should be enough."

"It's never enough mother, did you think that was enough when you married father and His Majesty's late father promoted him to First Knight or when His Majesty made him Ambassador?"

"No."

"Thought so. George is the only Boleyn left to carry out the family name. With him dies our father's dream and glory."

"And you think the Princess will ever-" she said in hushed tones as they passed two French serving women of the Queen. "- do you think she will notice him?"

"Why not?" Anne said. "You've seen how close they are and she has his ear and he hers. It will not be long before she is begging her father not to marry that sickly French Prince."

"Anne, please-"

"Everyone knows that it's only a matter of time before he drops dead. Roi Francois is too blind to see it, but his Bishops can and it's why they are betrothing the sickly Dauphin to the Princess of Kent. Nobody expects him to live long, at most, he will be fifteen when they forced him to marry her and he will die soon after she has bedded him. The English alliance will not suffer and she will be sent back in a boat to England and not soon after they will start looking for another alliance." She said.

They finally reached her apartments and after they served them fresh fruit and filled their cups with the best wine, Anne added –"I think our little Princess should be privy to better fortunes than a sickly boy. George is handsome, robust, there is not any woman who will desire him. He deserves the best."

"Be that as it may, your plan for George and the Princess Mary won't succeed. She is a Princess and after the scandal her namesake caused when she married Charles Brandon; her parents won't be taking any chances. They will watch over her zealously as she grows up."

"And continue to indulge her on her every whim" Anne added as the servants cleared up the empty plates and cups. "And if the Queen continues to be aloof to our intentions then we can still have a chance."

* * *

Mary welcomed George inside the following day. George could not help but be angry once he was inside and saw the jeweled cross the Dauphin's mother, Queen Claude, had given her personally in her son's name.

So this is it, he thought. She will be his and I will be nothing but their royal usher at most.

It was not fair.

He considered himself as good as any Prince –if not better.

He was after all George Boleyn. His father descended from the notorious Butler family and had it not been for being convicted of treason George might have been betrothed to one of the Butler heiress in hopes of inheriting the Earldom of Ormonde that was by right theirs.

"Do you like it George?" Mary said showing off yet another gift. She was too excited to see the disappointed look on his face.

"Yes." He forced himself to say.

"I knew you would. I have not shown this to anyone. My sisters tell me that I am a dwarf and that it is too big for me but I think it fits perfectly."

"You said you haven't shown anyone."

"Oh, right I did. Well I wanted you to feel especial, that you were the first one to see it."

"You do not have to do that. I can handle the truth very well."

"I know but I wanted to do something special for you since this is your birthday after all."

You did? He was compelled to ask. He never celebrated his birthdays, he saw it as pointless but the fact she had noticed brought small hope to his heart that perhaps there was something in her heart as well that made her ache for him as he did for her.

She grabbed his hands and took him to her bedchamber where she showed him the present she'd been working day and night for him. "Do you like it?"

George had no words to describe it. He was shocked that she had remembered at all and even more so, that she had taken the time and consideration.

He smiled at the Princess. "Thank you." He said opening the box. Inside was a red leather book with his initials inscribed in gold letters. It had all the famous works of Petrarch, Abelard and the most famous work of Erasmus 'Education of a Christian Prince'. "This must have cost you a fortune."

"I did it all myself."

"How? You said your tutor didn't like doing anyone any favors."

"No, George! Look at the handwriting!" He did. "Does it not look familiar to you?" She laughed when he looked up and stared at her with widened eyes.

"You?" he said. She nodded. "But how … I thought you said you did not have time for-"

"I only said that so you and Ferdinand wouldn't be interrupting me when me and Mistress Stanhope finished doing your present. So do you like it Master Boleyn?"

He nodded again.

"Good" She said grabbing his shoulders and kissing his cheek. Unlikely the ungrateful spoiled French Prince, he didn't pull away.

When her governess came and her servants took him to his apartments he shared with the other Prince's pages, he could not help but touch his cheek and allow a small smile to show on his features.

* * *

Catherine could have wished if she had known how to be as cunning and conniving as the future Lady of Northumberland, to move within the royal circles. She thought the fetes dull and pointless.

They had already signed the treaty, what was the point of all this? Her brother told her to be patient and she was for the first five minutes until the King of France began to show off his best fighters against their best fighters and not surprisingly after theirs had won, Francis began complaining it was because in England all they knew was how to fight. There was little culture and few musicians to feed their creativity.

Arthur was just nodding, not paying any attention to what the King of France was saying. His father and lady grandmother, Margaret Beaufort, had taught him that a great man knows when to save his strength and when to use it against his enemies. And the King of France, he considered him so far beneath him, he was not going to waste any of his strength.

Unfortunately, his younger siblings did not see it that way and when he mentioned having the best women and wrestlers that did it for them.

"Are you willing to swear on that?"

The King of France turned to the King's brother. They looked ready to kill, and their youngest sister was not too far behind. "Forgive me my lady, this is no conversation a lady such as you should hear."

"I am not offended Your Majesty, but if there is any offense the offense lies with the offender which is Your Majesty for speaking of such things when a lady is present."

The King laughed amused. If he was not married to Claude and she was not the King's sister and a few years older, he could bed her as many times he liked

"I believe His Majesty spoke of England being so far behind in wrestlers." She continued. She turned to her brother Edward. "My brother Edward is considered the best wrestler in the realm, on par with His Majesty, is that not correct brother?"

"You flatter our little Neddy too much but in contrast with the other brave English wrestlers, aye, he is the best."

"Perhaps Your Majesty can do us a demonstration and let our people see once and for all whose strength is best."

Francis was speechless. He wanted to take on the King of England, but he did not think the offer would come from the child Princess. "Well, brother if you see no impediment-"

Arthur did not and interrupted clapping his hands and rising to his feet.

The music stopped and everyone turned to look at the English monarch. "Our honored guests, Our fellow monarch has dared to question English bravery, he is right of course, England has not been participant in a great battle since the one hundred years war." He started.

There were murmurs from their French guests and the English courtiers who were also shooting daggers from their eyes at the French King.

"However I beg to differ and so with your permission I challenge my His Majesty, King Francis I, to a wrestling match."

Cheers erupted and everyone raised their arms and shouted "Yes". The King held a hand up to silence them.

"Yet my dear lady wife will not let me so I will appoint someone else to take my place. My brother Edward." He motioned to Edward who gladly accepted the challenge. "Give him hell brother."

"You sound as if you are the one doing battle." Edward said as he took off his chemise and stepped to the center of the room.

"I will if you do not win." Arthur said as he laid out the rules for their fellow monarch and his brother. He meant what he said. If Edward did not win, his wife would deny him a week of lovemaking.

They stared attentively at the fight; there were cheers from both sides but in the end they proved pointless when cast its favorable light on the King's brother, Edward.

Katherine had held the Queen's hand while the two royals fought. In spite of her prejudice against the French, she recognized the other woman's concern for her husband. When the fight was over, Francis was dressed once again and returned to his seat where he refused to speak or look at any of the English royals.

He had been humiliated on French occupied soil. It was the worst of all humiliations. He refused to sign the treaty with the English the next day but his ministers had forced him to.

As he and Arthur signed, he could not help but look at the King's first and last born and hope to God none of them became his children-in-law. Especially the girl. In spite of what he told her of her fairness, there was something in her that frightened him and made him realize as the treaty was celebrated that very same night, that this had not been a wise choice on his part.

* * *

**Author's Note: First thanks to my reviewers and the people who got me off my bum.**

***Taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Margaret Beaufort by Elizabeth Norton, Six Wives of Henry VIII by David Starkey, Six Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser, notes, and Children of Henry VIII by John Guy.**


	11. Chapter 10

The new year was greeted with great news. Eleanor was delivered of a healthy girl. They named her Gertrude, not wanting to imitate her sister-in-law and Aunt any longer in her choice of names for her royal daughters.

The Christening was two days following her birth, in fear that she would die. She was a small, little thing yet in everything else she was perfect. She had a healthy color and big round rosy cheeks, there was nothing for her parents to fear.

1521 was also a vital year for another royal. *****Margaret, the former Queen of Scotland had been riding all day until she finally reached the border where she was received by one of the King's emissaries who had been sent to receive her and her daughter, Margaret Douglas with all the decorum as was befit a King's daughter, a former Queen and her daughter.

Mary and her older sister Elizabeth who three years her senior, instantly took a liking to the young Douglas heiress. Seeing her daughter so happy around her cousins, she asked her brother if she could form part of any one of their household. Arthur consulted this with his wife and she instantly agreed.

Katherine could sympathize with her younger sister-in-law's plight; after all she had also turned orphan while the late King Henry of England, the seventh of his name, lived and it had been a difficult time for her. Arthur did all he could to console her but she entered a great melancholy that she thought she would never recover from until one Sunday morning before getting ready for Church, she woke up to find her husband and sons' heads looking at her. With smiles on their faces, they told her they loved her and they would be there for her no matter what. Katherine forgot her sorrows the following morning and things only got better when three years in the anniversary of her mother's death, she gave birth to her third child, a beautiful blond, blue-eyed, far-skinned baby girl whom she named Isabella in honor of her mother.

It was not easy for Margaret Tudor to get used to Court. She spoke like a Scot and it was hard leaving that accent when Scotland had been her home for so long. *****And she wasn't receptive to Catalina –or Katherine as she insisted in calling herself now- at first. She was after all the responsible party, the mastermind, behind her husband's death.

A soft oath had escaped her lips when she saw her child playing on the gardens with her older cousins. The Princess Mary saw her as her true friend and treated her as her equal along with her ladies, Mistress Stanhope, Susan White, and three other girls –among them one pale, shy-looking girl who was always looking down as if she was ashamed of something- she didn't remember. Her older cousins hardly paid her any attention as they saw her as a nuisance and the disgraced daughter of a nobody, little more than a bastard. Even her own sisters, Mary, Elizabeth, and Catherine had not paid her much attention. Yet, Princess Elizabeth like her youngest sister, the Princess of Kent did, but she was more busy flirting with all the young pages in her brothers' service that she left her sister and cousin to their own games whenever they showed up.

"Magnificent creatures are they not, sister?" Asked Arthur surprising her from behind.

She smiled at her brother and boldly kissed his cheek, in a long lasting kiss that ended when they heard their daughters' laughter. "Thank you." She said staring out the window at her daughter as she chased Mary and her ladies across the gardens.

"There is nothing to thank. I promised you before you left for Scotland that I would do anything in my power to protect you." He chuckled looking at his own daughter who raised her arms in triumph screaming and boasting victory over her sister and cousin. "Mary has taken a real liking to her cousin. She does nothing but talk of her."

"And Meg does nothing but talk of your daughters, especially Mary. She is a sweet child, you must be very proud."

"Ha!" He barked in laughter. "Sweet? That virago? She knocked the Dauphin right off his feet when he attempted to clean the kiss she gave him on the field of Cloth and Gold. You should have been there to see your poor brother nearly dropping off his chair in shame!"

"I do not believe my valiant brother was so shameful. Our brother-in-law His Grace Suffolk tells me how you could not wipe that grin off your face for weeks."

"She is my daughter, what can I say, sister? She is a true Tudor."

"No." Margaret said, slightly surprising her brother, looking closer at the child who winked at one of the pages in her brother's train as he passed her. "She is a true York."

* * *

Susan brought a letter from the Infante Fernando. "Again?" Mary asked giggling as she finished the letter. "He knows not how to treat a lady. He writes my in such a possessive way, I think I should not like him as a husband." She threw the letter at the fire. "What think you my lady Susan?"

"Your Highness knows that I am of the same mind as your lady mother, our honorable Queen."

"He would make a delightful husband." Another one of her ladies said, "You would be Queen of the Romans." Susan agreed. "Not all your sisters can boast to that."

"Ten months ago my lord father promised me the crown of France now he promises me the Roman crown. Which one will be next?"

"You do not mean your father is stalling your weddings to keep you here forever, do you?" Susan asked cocking her head, hoping the answer would be no. Unfortunately it was.

"My lord father thinks of me as his little rose, he does not see me as the rest of the members of our family do." She gave a dramatic sigh as she turned to her ladies. "I think I should like best to be Queen of nothing."

"And never marry?" Said one of them, thinking the Princess had suddenly gone mad. It was the one true desire of every respectful lady to marry.

"Your Highness is too beautiful to be single forever."

"I agree." Another said. "Your Highness, surely, does not mean to give up everything for life in the Church?"

"What is so bad about life in the Church?" One of them asked. Everyone's head turned to her. She was a meek little thing, only four years older than the Princess, yet she looked like she could be the same age. She was only a head higher and her eyes were a dark blue and her expression dull in contrast with the Princess' lively and sparkling grey eyes.

"What is so wrong? My lady Seymour, you clearly have not lived the life of a nun to know what dreadful life they must endure for their service to God."

"They are holy women, they require nothing else, their strength derives of God, their suffering and others' suffering they make it their own so they can honor God and by doing this they do the greatest sacrifice of us all, that of the body over their hearts."

"And they called me mad." Susan mumbled. She turned back to Mary. "You do not mean that, do you? The Infante Fernando would treat you well and he's fascinated with your portrait, your mother says he is expected to arrive any day now."

"My lady mother wants desperately to destroy her enemies, she doesn't care what the price is, she is willing to pay it."

"Another one speaking in riddles. See what you have done Mistress Seymour?"

"Leave the poor girl alone Susan, can you not see the poor girl is frightened?"

"She should be. It is not proper for Her Highness ladies to speak out of turn."

"I apologize, Your Highness." Jane said lowering her eyelashes to hide her embarrassment.

"Do not apologize, you spoke your mind and you have a gift with words which is more than what I can boast. What is your name, Mistress …"

"Jane, Your Highness. Jane Seymour."

"Jane. I remember a Seymour serving at my father's embassy in France. Sir John Seymour. Is he your father?"

Jane nodded. "Answer, Your Highness, Jane." Susan said and Mary was about to admonish her but Jane did so quickly and with a stronger voice that surprised everyone, including herself.

"Yes, Your Highness. Your Majesty, your lord father sent him to France a year ago. I was sent to him to France but was recalled by your lady mother and placed in Your Highness' service."

*****"What special talents you have Jane? Why have I not noticed before? Everyone here possesses a special talent, it seems so odd that you have remained invisible to Our presence for so long."

Jane was overwhelmed by the use of the royal Our. She looked away but Mary's clear throat made her face the Princess. "Tis all well Mistress Seymour, it is just a simple question." She said her voice soothing but her eyes calculating, looking into her very soul.

"I am not fond of Your Highness'past times."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Your Highness must forgive me, I do not mean to offend you but I was raised in the countryside, *****I know French, some Greek and little Latin. My life has revolved around household duties. I know nothing of poetry, or the new learning as you call it. I only know what I have been taught."

"But you did spend time in France and you were called back because I gather you could not keep up with the tasks the Queen set upon you."

"Yes, Your Highness. I am a country girl, I am not used to mingle in big circles. I prefer the peace and quiet of the countryside." She said simply smiling as she remembered her daily activities with her mother and sisters to keep her company.

"Do you have brothers Mistress Jane?"

"Aye, Your Highness. I have four."

"Four?" Mary raised an eyebrow then laughed. Susan and the rest of her ladies joined her -including Anne Stanhope who just came in and was completely unaware of what they were laughing but knowing better than to displease her mistress, laughed as well.

"I should think three are enough." Mary said.

"Three what?" Anne asked as she sat next to Mary. "Might I enquire what Your Highness is speaking of?"

"Jane here was telling Her Highness how she has four brothers and prefers the countryside over the splendor of the Court."

"That is not what I-" Jane started but was interrupted again.

"Mistress Seymour's father serves in France as His Majesty's ambassador and she was appointed to the Queen of that country's service but was withdrawn after only one month of service."

"Is that true?" Anne asked her, wondering how such a meek little mouse had ever come to serve her best friend.

"Y-yes" she stuttered. "But there was a good reason for that. I could not serve Her Majesty Queen Claude in the capacity that was asked of me. I asked my father to be sent back home where I could keep knitting and tending to my religious lessons with the rest of my siblings and my mother. She is one of the sweetest and kindest persons you will ever meet and she has always taken special interest in my upbringing. I do miss her." She said, the strong voice Susan, Mary and the other ladies had heard earlier, returning. She turned to her mistress. "Your Highness, if you wish me to leave your service, I will gladly do so."

The girls behind her sniggered but Jane paid them no heed. She would be happier if she was back in the fields, helping her tenants. Besides helping her mother with household duties and attending religious lessons, charity was her other favorite activity. She missed going to the religious shrines and giving a small percentage of her family's income to the Priest. When she was the Princess' age she would go every year with her mother or older brother as chaperone. Now as she got older she did not need a chaperone anymore, yet it was her mother's belief that she did and so Ned was always there with her.

"You want to go home, do you not Jane?" Mary asked in a kinder tone as the ladies behind her continued to giggle.

"Yes, Your Highness. I am honored by the favors your father has bestowed upon my family but I would be happier if I was home where I belong."

"I am afraid I cannot do that Mistress Jane, I hope you understand that it is not within my power to send you home."

"I understand Your Highness and I thank you for understanding my plight, but surely you could-" She stopped. She was not going to finish that sentence, she pushed her hands behind her back and apologized and once again thanked the Princess for understanding.

"Why did you not send her back?" Susan asked when she, Mary, and Anne were alone.

"I could not. I wanted to but I could not." Susan and Anne looked puzzled at their friend. Mary sighed. "I can't explain what is it about her, but I actually liked Mistress Seymour. Beyond that meek face there is the strong spirit of a woman."

"Perhaps it is Your Highness' person you see reflected in her." Anne said, passing her fingers through her friend's soft red mane.

"I do not know what it was but I think there is more to Mistress Seymour than what meets the eye. She may not be pliant, meek, and passive at all. You saw how she spoke back there, she stood her ground when the rest were mocking her. What does that tell you?"

"That she is foolish." Anne said stealing the words right out of Susan's mouth. "Any parrot can imitate Your Highness' strength, it takes a bold one to speak the truth and what is on her mind. People like Mistress Seymour are nothing but people-pleasers, they are made to please and so they imitate the attitude that people will like best."

That was true. Mary frowned. She did not like the reasoning of her friend but there was truth in her words, she had seen it often with many want-to-be courtiers who appealed to her father's good sense of humor to rise high up in the ranks. Of course her father was too clever to fall for their tricks. But Jane did not strike her as the type of person to deceive. Her manners were genuine and she had not been in France long enough to be a master at the art of deception. She was no courtier. She was just a country girl. Plan and simple.

Anne snorted. The Princess had much to learn. There was nobody that good on the face of the Earth.

* * *

Jane wrote to her brother in Latin like the Princess told her knowing this would surprise her brother and especially her mother who was always very fond of Jane and had great ambitions for her, following the visit of her cousins, the Infante Fernando and the Emperor Charles V and I of Spain.

Mary was very impressed with how fast a learner Jane was.

"That is because you are a good teacher." George said.

"I work at the best of my abilities. My tutor tells me that I am too indulgent on Mistress Jane and that I make a poor pupil."

"You value the advice of a man who teaches women they should be observant of Church laws and live a life of humility as our Lord Jesus Christ lived while he and the rest of Christian Princes he praises, live a life of splendor, sleeping in warm beds and feeding the decadence of the Holy Mother Church?"

"Master Vives is my mother's leading scholar on her team of scholars and he is a tutor. I have learned so much with him."

"You are not a good liar Mary." He said, his eyes twinkling. Her cheeks blushed furiously. "He is not the only scholar out there. There are many others worth looking into, other books I could teach you."

She knitted her eyebrows in confusion. "Such as?" She asked, not able to help herself. She was cursed by her curiosity –A natural condition all women must suffer as punishment for their original sin in the garden of Eden her tutor had said.

He neared her and whispered in her ear. Mary gasped, her hand thrust to her mouth. "But those are forbidden."

"Not for a Princess. I thought you said you wanted to know everything."

"I said I wanted to know what books, I did not mean …" Her parents would disinherit her! "Please never speak of this again. Promise me." She begged grabbing George's hands.

George did not say anything. Instead he smiled, giving her that same mischievous smile that Anne always gave her husband when she wanted something.

He knew he had succeeded when Mary shifted her glance back and from. "George, I cannot risk you losing you over some silliness … promise me you will not-"

Frustrated with her indecision, George came forward and kissed her right on the mouth. It was only a peck at the lips really but they had felt like an eternity had passed before he withdrew.

They stared at each other dumbfounded, unable to make sense of what had happened.

"Your Highness … Mary … I …" He was only five years older than her, a year older than the Prince and yet was it possible that for someone so young he could be driven to the point of insanity by someone so beautiful, so innocent, yet so seductive in spite of her young age?

Mary interrupted his thoughts pressing two fingers on his lips, then withdrew them and kissed him. She chuckled at his shocked expression. "You are not the only one who has a fancy for impossible loves." She said then left the playroom before his best friend and her brother, Ferdinand came.

* * *

Elizabeth laughed at her nieces Margaret Douglas and the younger Elizabeth. They were playing chess and as usual Meg refused to accept defeat. She was very much her mother in that, except Margaret would not make a big deal out of it after their father came and turned her mind with presents.

It was odd seeing the older Henry so taken with his children. He always appeared cold and distant to everyone, even those who knew him thought he was cold. They didn't know him like they did. Elizabeth never saw her father as anything other than loving and caring and she loved when he came with his mother and inquired on her lessons. It was the first demonstration of love she got from her father and that he actually cared for her well-being by not placing them in the marriage market or suggesting an alliance with other countries like her older sisters Mary and Margaret. The former had been lucky in that she had wedded a very old man and then had been free to marry someone of her choice. Not only that, she thought, but she managed to get away with it and her husband managed to keep his head.  
Her oldest sister wasn't so lucky. She loved her first husband who was a passionate, albeit highly unfaithful husband, and when he died she sought the comfort of another whom she thought would support her in the Scottish Parliament and would love and worship her like her first husband did but it turned out to be a nightmare. Archibald Douglas cared about no one but himself and the way he treated her sister and then tried to kidnap their poor daughter when they were fleeing, was just abominable.

She didn't share Catherine's opinion on marriage but she hoped that if she ever married it would be to someone she loved.

"Enough chatter! I win!" Said Meg Douglas holding out her chin like her mama taught her too, imperiously.

The young Elizabeth rolled her eyes, she looked to her namesake and Aunt for support but she gave her a look that just said 'I'll just go with it if I were you'. Beth swallowed her pride and said with a forced smile "You win."

Meg squealed and clapped her hands then went to her older cousin and wrapped her arms around her. Beth wanted to shake her off but Meg's arms were too strong. "Worry not cousin, it is not every day that a Scot can boast to an English royal she beat her at her own game."

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Children of Henry VIII by John Guy, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Winter King by Thomas Penn, Game of Thrones, Tudors, notes, and Sister Queens: The Noble and Tragic Lives of Katherine of Aragon and Juana of Castile by Julia Fox.**


	12. Chapter 11

Elizabeth had to stand next to her family as her brother interrogated the Spanish Ambassador regarding his master's change mind regarding their betrothal and the betrothals of her youngest sister, Catherine, and her niece, Mary.

Margaret was looking at every direction, looking for her daughter Meg but she nowhere to be found. Nearing her daughter, her grandmother whispered she was with her cousin Mary. They were getting ready for their visit to Richmond Palace, to visit her cousin Ferdinand. Margaret thanked her grandmother and silently prayed they would encounter no trouble along the road. She should know better, this was England. The roads were highly secure and the King had guards everywhere yet her brother did not know her former husband. Archibald was ruthless and last year he tried kidnapping her son to take control over the Regency. Thankfully his Regent, despite her brother's war with France managed to keep him away from Archibald's clutches.

She felt a hand placed on her shoulder and was surprised to see it was from her grandmother and namesake, Lady Beaufort.

Margaret bowed her head then looked up at the older woman giving a small smile in gratitude for her kind gesture. Then she turned her attention to her brother who and the cowering Spanish Ambassador who seemed to grow paler with every word he said.

"Your master promised us peace terms with Our consent." Arthur thundered using the royal Our to assert his authority as supreme head of the English government and –he believed- the rest of Europe.

"With all due respect Your Majesty, His Majesty Charles does not need Your Majesty's consent. An agreement was reached that should the battle be successful-"

Arthur interrupted holding his hand up demanding silence then pointed with that same hand to his younger sisters, Elizabeth and Catherine. "The King has how many siblings and brothers? If I recall he has only one of marriageable age, including himself who showed himself very eager in his last visit to wed my sister Elizabeth. What changed?"

"His Majesty is still eager but Your Majesty has failed to paid the other half of her dowry-"

"As instructed I should when your master and I agreed on Francis' terms of surrender."

"His Majesty was in the dire position-"

"His Majesty was not in the dire position. Like his grandfather he's tricked us and made us look like fools. Why did he release King Francis? Why?" Arthur pressed. His voice was steady but his tone was deadly and his eyes had a look that was both menacing and frightening. Mendoza gulped. He had never felt this intimidated.

He was at a loss of what to say. When he opened his mouth, no sound came. He closed his mouth and looked to the Queen for support but she would give him none. She was equally disappointed.

"I suggest you get your affair in orders Excellency and write back to your master before you are sent to Plymouth and a ship back to Spain. You have brought great shame on my family especially my sisters and my youngest daughter whom I hold very dear. Your master promised to wed my sister Elizabeth and his brother promised to wed my youngest daughter, then you promised Catherine could we my Queen's youngest nephew, King John of Portugal."

Again silence.

"What is the matter Excellency? Cat got your tongue, have your balls suddenly dropped off?"

Mendoza gasped, shocked by the King's audacity. Of course, thought he, what else could be expected by the son of a Lancaster who won the crown through bribery and pillaging, murdering his own people and Plantagenet relatives and hiring German mercenaries and with the help of the French throne to win the Crown? Arthur Tudor was nothing more than a stain of grease on the throne. There were other people more deserving on the Throne but by God, no one dared to stand up again this so called King because like his father he knew how to intimidate and was highly vindictive and sensitive at even the most minimal offense.

His mind racked him and he remembered the Duke of Buckingham.  
Aye, he had not been afraid to stand up against the King. But he had been foolish and naïve. Arrogant, selfish, and part of the old aristocracy he was stuck in that past century where commoners flocked to giants of higher pedigree like him and didn't question their King's or master's orders. Of course, he had realized his mistake all too late and before his family knew it, the Stafford fortunes and lands had been passed on to new men. Men who won their fortunes through merit rather than their bloodline.

The King smirked at the cowering man then turned to his Queen. Katherine understood. She directed her look to her nephew's man.

"Excellency, we have not asked you to come here to humiliate you, rather we want to inquire because it is We who feel very humiliated by what my nephew has done, to know why he did it."

She spoke in such a soft voice that it seemed almost impossible to Mendoza to think that she was part of her husband's rough treatment of him. But years in service of the Emperor, he knew that not everything was what it seemed and that the Queen as His Majesty was a very good actress. _Probably the best._

"Your Majesty," he said finding his voice again. "I cannot speak on my master's actions but he was forced to release Francis-"

"Forced, Your Excellency? How was he forced? Is he not the Emperor?" Asked Katherine with an innocent voice that was not devoid of mock, her eyes were dancing with amusement as the Ambassador struggled to find the right words.

"He is Madame, but circumstances arose and the King could not keep Francis locked any longer."

Eleanor scoffed, she knew her brother better than anyone, probably he did not want to waste any more money. Charles had only declared war on France because Francis (as usual) had overstepped his boundaries and claimed the Duchy of Milan, which Charles believed belonged to him. Arthur and her husband had been the vehicle as they had been her grandfather's vehicle ten years ago to get what he wanted. She never felt more hatred for her native land and her family as she did now. She thanked God her brother had not asked for her after Henry's death. Who knew whom he would have married her to or used her to get what she wanted?

She looked over her shoulder at Edmund who smirked hearing the Ambassador offer more excuses, he signaled to Eleanor to look ahead lest he wanted to make the Ambassador more nervous which she did.

"-His Majesty, King Francis has agreed to a peace between our nations and swears complete loyalty."

"Does that mean he will give up half the territories that the Emperor promised to my husband when he agreed to aid him in this war, Excellency?"

"Your Majesty, I am afraid he will not. This is a separate deal."

The Queen lowered her eyelashes hiding the pity she felt for this man, or she was about to feel because as soon as she lowered them, her husband spoke again and his tone was not all too pleasant.

* * *

Eleanor spread her legs and let Edmund please her. Her body shuddered as she felt the violent spasm of his own against her as he released in her.

"What did you think of his Excellency today?"

"I think if he has any brains he will crawl back to the castle where he came from."

"Are you always this vindictive?"

"Do you want me to be any other way?" She asked with a mischievous grin, winking at her husband as he took her again and again, whispering in her ear. "Nay, my sweeting, I would not want you any other way," then added as his second release came. "You are perfect just the way you are. I treasure you … I worship you…" He whispered, slowly withdrawing.

"You speak with sincerity … my lord … I do not believe…" she took deep breaths, her chest heaving up and down as he came close, grabbing her hand tight, trying to recover from their lovemaking session that had left them completely drained. She turned her head to him, smiling. "I do not believe my first husband spoke to me with such sincerity."

His head turned. He had not given much thought to his brother. He was just a piece of their past; there were times when he did not want to remember him because the memory of his death was too painful and he feared that by mentioning him it would reopen old wounds and also make her remember how much she grieved for him and loved him.

Seeing what was going through his mind, she came closer and raised her hands, cupping his face and brought his lips to hers. "I loved your brother my lord. He was my first husband and my first. I will always love him. But," she paused giving him a fiery kiss. "I love you more and that is all that matters."

He moaned as he took dominance over her mouth and enveloped her tiny waist with his muscular arms.

"What are we going to do now that my brother no longer wants a friendship with England? You had such dreams of marrying one of our children to his future children with your sister Bess." She queried.

"No matter. All that can wait, personally though if I must be frank, I was half-hoping that that marriage alliance amounted to nothing. The thought of one of our own going away to marry, well, I just cannot fathom. You are all so very dear to me. I cannot picture a world without you."

"Oh Edmund, you say the sweetest things a woman could want. It pains me for your sisters and our niece though. Little Mary had such high hopes and your brother too, it must have been a stab in the back."

"Do not blame yourself love. Your brother is your brother and nobody could have anticipated this treachery, besides the blood relations between the Princess Mary and Ferdinand is too close, it is better it turned out this way."

"Probably you are right, although I wonder why the Queen decided to send Mary to Richmond, there is nothing for her and your grandmother there except boys playing swords and being violent with one another, hardly the environment for a Princess."

Edmund laughed. "Oh my sweet darling, you do not know Mary like I do, that little girl loves to run away and taxes all of her tutors and governesses out. I would be more worried about Ferdinand and his friends enduring the pains of her company than her enduring theirs."

And he was right. No sooner did the Queen give the order, the Princess of Kent and her companions of wildlings as Lady Salisbury called them, had

* * *

Wulf Hall was a rich property. With more than a hundred tenants, their primordial activity, which was also the main source of income for the Seymour family, was grazing. Edward missed the countryside and looking over their tenants when he was sent to Richmond Palace, the seat of the Duke of said place, Prince Ferdinand. He had received his title after his great-grandmother, the infamous Lady Richmond and their late King's mother, Margaret Beaufort, gave up hers in his favor.

He served as master of the horse and was witnessed to many things his employer, the King of England had told him, he wished he had never seen. At first he thought depravity, abuse of authority and power but he was surprised it was something far worse. Children!

Edward barely had patience for children. His brother could not wait to be around them. But of course his brother could not wait to be around laughing people, anything that would endear him to the ladies and get their attention. He was a known womanizer despite his young age, he had bedded his first girl at fourteen last summer, a month after he became sixteen.

His father was very proud. He made no clear distinction between his sons but it was clear that Thomas was his favorite. Ned didn't mind, as long as Thomas and their minded their own business they could be about whatever they wanted. For Ned life was in their fields, tending to their states since their father, a jolly good fellow, was a poor manager and would have lost their states had it not been for him. He was very proud when his oldest son was called to serve the youngest Prince and turned Master of the Horse at Richmond.

"Remember Edward you are not going there for fun, always be mindful of the Prince and you charges. Many would kill to be in your place so a lot of them will expect you to fail. Do not disappoint me, my son."

Edward had no intention of doing so. Not three months since his appointment, he had ingratiated himself with the local gentry and the commoners that lived in the villages near Richmond Palace. They all regarded him as man full of grace, refined, and who wasn't arrogant or spoiled like the rest who served the Prince. He had won everything through hard work and putting his mind to work as well. From Richmond Palace he still managed his father's states and wrote letters to his father from the reports his mother gave him of the state of Wulf Hall and their tenants. There wasn't much to report today though. Except a few sheep dead –but they were already old. Their fields were seasoned and ready to be harvested, those that had been last year gave fruit and were ready to be plucked. Just as Ned was getting ready to send the letter, the Princess of Kent arrived to Sheen.

She always liked to call it Sheen instead of Richmond. It was after all, she argued with her friends, its original name before her grandfather rebuilt it.

Ferdinand only pretended to be happy and swung his arms around his sister because their great-grandmother, the indomitable Elizabeth Wydeville was with her. He was really interested in her best friend and lady, Mistress Stanhope.

"How fare you, my lady great-grandmother?"

"Ah please child, stop with the pretenses, you want to pluck Mistress Stanhope behind your sister's back do you not?"

"Lady –"

Elizabeth raised her hand, silencing Mary. "Please child, I am more seasoned than you, I know how a young man's works. Would you not say the same Master Boleyn if you were the one infatuated?"

"I would my lady, except I consider myself of such higher tastes."

The ladies behind Mary giggled. Mary shot them a terrible look that put the Roman Goddesses of Discord and Juno to shame.

Elizabeth shared a chuckle with them. "You are very clever Master Boleyn, but I am afraid not that very clever to avoid my question." As she and her great-granddaughter and her party passed them, she noticed a young gentleman by the stables coming their way.

"My, my, who is this fine young man?" If she was fifty years younger she could easily pluck this little bird's feathers. Elizabeth always had a weakness for the flesh.

Ferdinand cleared his throat bringing her attention back to him and away from the ravishing young lad in front of her. "This, my lady is Master Seymour. Father appointed him as my Master of the Horse." He turned to Edward Seymour. "Master Seymour, would you care to show my lady and my sister to their chambers?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Elizabeth moved closer to the young man. He tried keeping his distance. He didn't like the way the older woman looked at him. Indeed, for an older woman she still possessed the flower of youth in her face which looked almost as young as the Queen's, yet her neck and hands, the only flesh besides her face and neck that was exposed, showed her true age.  
Elizabeth was bewitched by this young man, dark blond hair, dark blue eyes and such a serious expression. He looked almost like her husband at his age, she briefly turned to her great-granddaughter and her company and saw that she was not the only one who had been taken by this young man's looks.

* * *

Mary tried to steal a glance or two from her brother's new Master of the horse but he was always busy making excuses. It angered Mary that he could refuse her!

She decided that enough was enough and put herself in between him and his horse. He pretended that she was invisible and did not acknowledge her until she cleared her throat. "Hello there" He greeted, lowering his eyes at her.

She growled and stomped her feet in an impressive manner that failed to impress him.

"You have been rude, you have ignored me, and you refuse to acknowledge my presence when I call on you. You sir, are a bad Master of the Horse and a poor servant to my brother, your master, the Prince Ferdinand and His Grace, Duke of Richmond. What say you, Master Seymour?"

His lips twitched trying hard not to chuckle at the little Princess. Seeing what thoughts passed through his head she yelled. "I am not a midget, I am your Princess and you sir have been ignoring me. I demand an answer, now!"

He exerted greater pressure on his lower lip. Finally not able to withstand any longer and won over by the pain as he tasted the metallic flavor of his blood, he let go and burst out laughing, kneeling down, clutching his stomach to prevent him from fainting.

Good God! The Princess was fiercer than her mother, even her great-grandmother was not plain-spoken as this!

"Stop laughing! I said stop laughing! I command you to stop laughing."

In response Ned laughed harder and dropped to the floor on his back; the young teen clutching his stomach and throwing his head back with his mouth wide open, let out a stronger laugh.

Frustrated, the Princess bent down and took a pile of dirt then walked to the laughing adolescent and threw it on his face.

Edward Seymour gasped. Wiping his face clean off the dirt the spoiled arrogant brat threw on his face, he stood up and looked up at the royal midget. First, he had never been spoken thus by a lady in his life, much less a Princess that was supposed to be more refined. He guessed not. Second, his mother and sisters were far too great ladies to trouble themselves over who was looking at them and if they wanted something done they looked to other ways to get it done instead of shouting and barking orders like this spoiled child did.

He heard the royal midget shouting at her brother that he had insulted her and called her awful names.

"That is not true!" The adolescent Seymour shouted, letting his anger get to him.

Her cheeks flushed and she grabbed her brother by his collar and whispered to him everything he said then when she realized he was grinning as his Boleyn companion, she let him go and shouted that he better do something or she would go straight to her father.

"Let me give you the many reasons why you will not, starting with father will not believe you when you tell him his honorable ambassador's son-"

George flinched at the title given to Master Seymour's father, Sir John Seymour. A title that should be his father's. His father should still be here. Seeing the young man grin as his friend and companion praised his father, George could not help but feel hatred for this man. He had done nothing to him or his family yet his family had prospered whereas was still living off the Queen's Christian charity.  
He never became more committed to woo the Princess Mary in that moment that he swore himself he would pay whatever the price to attain his goal.

Meanwhile the Prince continued to speak to his sister, defending Master Seymour against her outrageous allegation. "-has threatened his favorite daughter which need I remind you is known to take great liberties from the affection and power our father has given her."

"And need I remind you Ferdinand that father shall believe me no matter how outrageous my claim is which I assure it is not, I swear to God." She would take Constable of Bristol Castle from him, which was another position he held, after she took his present one. _Ha. That will teach him!_

"You know sister" Started Ferdinand crossing his arms against his chest, his pale blue eyes penetrating hers. "I do not know which is worse. You swearing in false and disgracing our Lord's name, or, accusing poor Master Seymour here who has done nothing but serve me faithfully, or, believing your lies."

"How dare you? I shall speak to papa about this." Mary said with an imperious tone turning on her heels and running to her chambers.

George looked at his distraught friend. Ferdinand was usually quiet, he never raised his voice unless it was absolutely necessary. An idea came to him. It will be the perfect opportunity. He thought. Turning to the Prince he asked if he could speak to the Princess on his behalf and convince her not to accuse poor Master Seymour here.

Ferdinand accepted. Ned watched the young twelve year old run with a speed that was almost unnatural to the Princess' chambers.

"Forgive me Master Seymour. 'Tis will be resolved before nightfall I can assure you your post is safe here with us."

"It is of no consequence to me Your Highness, if your lord father requires me to go I shall gladly accept his judgment."

"No" Ferdinand said too fast, holding his hand up. Master Seymour was the best Master of the Horse he had in years and he understood Ferdinand really well in ways not even his best friend George could. And he was not afraid of voicing his opinion when asked. He was blunt, brutal, daring and he had a love for horses that every time he received a present from any of his relatives, he was the first to comment on whether the horse was pure or mix-bred.

He also had a great talent for account keeping and oversaw all his household expenses and Ferdinand had benefited from the youth's experience in running his household.

"You are not going anywhere I will speak to my father and ride to Greenwich if I have to. Nobody should enjoy that power and besides, my sister is only the Princess of Kent while I am the Duke of Richmond. My word weighs higher than hers."

"Is that so, Your Highness?" Ned could not help but ask. Fortunately the Prince did not notice the mock in his voice, and said "Yes" nodding his head vigorously.

Ned laughed mentally. The Prince did not know his sister. The Princess may be weak and small but she possessed the heart and soul of a warrior. The Prince, save for his sex had no other trait worthy of comparison.  
Yet Ned nodded, listening to his young master's every complaint. Unlike his sister, the Princess Mary, he showed his gratitude by lowering his head and remaining in a still position until he was properly dismissed.

* * *

**Taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Children of Henry VIII by John Guy and Alison Weir, notes, GOT, and Tudors.**


	13. Chapter 12

Lady Elizabeth had sat quietly as her great-grandchildren played with their companions. The girls as usual formed their own little circle (separate from the boys) and the boys kept a minimal distance. She eyed George Boleyn, the boy was petulant and he had those determined dark eyes she had seen on his sister, the future Duchess of Northumberland.

He will be a hard one –she thought, while Mary wrote love letters to George Boleyn. She fashioned herself in love but the girl hardly knew anything about love.

Elizabeth took the letter from Mary, raised herself up and delivered it to George who took it too eagerly without turning his head to her or saying thanks.

She did not really hear what was being whispered but she only had to look at their faces to guess. Elizabeth smiled and giggled as Mary told her what George had wrote to her.

"What else? Tell, tell." Elizabeth urged.

"Well he says I am the most beautiful woman in the entire Earth…"

"You the most beautiful woman?" Meg suddenly interrupted raising an eyebrow as her cousin nodded very eagerly.

"You are not the most beautiful woman ever cousin but I shall accept your if truth be told, I think your elder sister be the most beautiful woman on the realm."

"My sister? You mean Bella?" Asked she, using her sister's nickname.

"Why of course, who else?" Said Meg, shrugging her shoulders as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Every Prince in Europe has made his bid for her hand."

"And father has rejected all save for one and she rejected that one."

"Oh Lord, I remember." Said Elizabeth, bringing her hand to her chest. "I don't believe I ever saw my father that angry. I think there was foam in his mouth."

They burst out in laughter.

"Lizzie you shouldn't say such things. Imagine what father will say if he heard you." Catherine, the oldest of the twins, said.

"Oh papa will grumble and grumble but it will be mother who will be really mad. She gets so upset now easily, first it was papa agreeing to a French betrothal then it was her nephew, our cousin Charles disagreeing over Mary's dower portion to wed his brother Fernando. She cannot make up her mind lately, I feel almost sorry." Lizzie said, giggling a little as George turned their away attempting to steal a glance from Mary who –to his good fortune- looked back and gave him a smile.

"Do not be. Mother knows what she is doing." Johanna, the youngest and most talkative of the twins, said.

"Mother_ always_ does." Catherine agreed.

"Mother always does," mocked Lizzie. "Don't be childish."

"We are children," Catherine declared haughtily. "We are supposed to be childish."

Mary laughed. "She has you there sister."

"You too. Enjoy life while you can sister, father says he will marry you soon."

"Very soon." Catherine added.

Lizzie rose and walked out of the room kicking the stool where they had placed her books as she did.

Mary made to follow her but her lady great-grandmother raised her hand. "Stay" she commanded and Mary stayed, sitting down, taking her place in between the twins and her cousin Meg.

She stared at George hoping he had not heard, but he had yet he made no notice of it. He just kept staring and smiling at her as if nothing had happened.

Oh George, are you so naïve? _Yes_, his smile said and his eyes sparkled as they reflected the love and admiration the thirteen year old felt for her.

* * *

Ned did not see why his father was such in a hurry to marry him. He had rejected all the ladies he placed before him and honestly even if he did accept, it would be by someone of his choosing.

As the eighteen year old passed several of the children that formed part of the youngest royals' trains, not forgetting to bow before them, he ran into his greatest nightmare.

"Your Highness."

"Master Seymour, I see you are not made into a knight yet." She said, her eyes danced with mischief as he gave a forceful smile that did very little to hide his scorn. _Poor Master Seymour_, she felt. First his wife horns him then he gets cuckolded. She had told Anne, Susan, and Meg how bad it must be for him to be at the bottom of the barrel.

Susan slapped Mary's shoulder and told her to be more sensitive but Mary said, "Why should I?" After all, he was never sensitive to _her_ needs. It was all _him, him_. If he is that sad, then he should not be at Court, she had said. How long since she horned him? She forgot but she knew it was around the time he had briefly left his brother's service to serve her uncle, the Duke of Suffolk in her father and cousin's joint campaign against France.  
_Funny_, she thought, observing him for what seemed to be the first time from head to toe. He had not changed much except in his hair. Perhaps it was her imagination but his hair seemed to become lighter, shinier. It was as if it was made of gold. She could not help but smile as she thought how a lighter color would contrast perfectly with his golden head and dark blue eyes.

His voice shook her from her thoughts.

"Your Highness, honors me with her remembrance. Here I was keeping a minimal distance between your royal sire and I but now that you kindly reminded me on my much-deserved royal appointment, I shall go directly to His Majesty and plead my case."

"There is hardly any case to plead. Anyone who is anybody knows that the King doesn't see everyone on daily basis, even His Excellency's son." She approached him and touched his hand. An odd electric feeling passed between them, but neither noticed. They were too busy fighting and eager to see who would be pushed to the brink of madness.

To her delight it was he as his father came and bowed to the Princess then mentioned to his son he had to rejoin the Prince's household and then –perhaps –Sir John whispered in his early, hopeful- he would get the knighthood that had been promised to him. "How many more years?" Ned hissed in his father's ear. He was getting impatient. He had had enough of Princes and their lousy sisters. He needed that knighthood now! It was his only way out of this hellhole. He swore, he had been in wars, seen dead, torn limbs, sunken ships, but nothing had prepared him for the torture he had to endure at the Princess' hands whenever she came to visit her brother!

Sir John saw the frustration in his son's eyes and whispered back in his ear, hoping this would lighten his day.

"When?" Ned asked, not believing his luck. His smile turned wider as his father spoke and Sir John's voice only became higher as he spoke of all the recent appointments the King had made for him –in spite of his still lack of knighthood**. ***"I am to be gentleman usher to Wolsey?" His father nodded. Edward let out a loud laugh. He could see himself jumping from joy. He quickly composed himself and his face turned serious, but John saw the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. "When can I start?"

"The position is only when Wolsey calls on you."

"When?" Ned asked, eagerly hoping the royal midget would hear so she would now he was leaving soon and would not have to tolerate her presence anymore.

"Edward it is only for state occasions, you will still be employed at the Prince's household. You are his Master of the Horse after all, and you have also been appointed his administrator-"

"But surely!" He gritted his teeth. He turned to the royal midget. Little spitfire, she could not contain her laughter. He shifted his eyes back to his father, his eyes almost begging.

It pained Sir John to see his son thus but what could he do? His hands were tied and he had gone through a lot of trouble to get him this position. Wolsey was not a kind man and he only gave favors to those with merit and it had been through damn sheer luck that the Cardinal had recognized in Edward a man of merit. "I am sorry son." Was all he could say.

"Well then, it is what it is." Ned said, holding his head up high and turning his back on the royal spitfire and her army of silly girls and royal cousins.

* * *

*****A year after her ninth birthday, her mother took her back to Greenwich. She could not stand being away from her youngest daughter. She wanted to take complete charge of her education and for that she had hired Master Juan Luis Vives who not only wrote a curriculum that every Christian Princess should take –he said- but also dedicated his book "The Education of a Christian Princess" for her.

Mary did not like that man. He said a Christian Princess ought to be humble, silent, passive, moderate, and while she did excel at all these things, she believed they would help her in nothing when she was thrust into the marriage market once more in search of a husband.

"Princess after all," she had told him "are destined to marry, they are educated to please, to excel in all the courtly functions and those raised since childhood in the belief they will be Queens must thusly be prepared at some."

"Princess Mary," responded he. "Though ye be a precocious child, you possess none of the gifts a Queen ought to have."

"And what are those Master Vives?"

Master Vives put his hat down and walked to the Princess. He sat down and tapped his bony hands on the empty space next to him. "Let us see your gifts. You are beautiful, you are intelligence. Not wise but intelligent, you possess the gift of patience though you let your feelings overrule it -but no matter," he said waving his hand dismissively, "you are a woman and you are expected to fall prey to such weaknesses although as future Consort you will be expected to overcome them. And you are observant Princess Mary, like your mother you observe the laws of our Holy Mother Church and never fail to attend mass, being the first one before anyone else's arrival. You have your father's love for politics, for books, and you surround yourself with the best books and scholars. You have immense qualities that were it not for your sex would make you into an exemplary Prince."

Mary smiled and made to stand but he spoke again. "But you are also imprudent and your words often lack wisdom. You think after you speak and you do not care to think before you do."

Master Vives was right of course. Mary always said the first thing that came to mind. "I have a rebellious spirit Master Vives." She confessed. "My lord father praises me for it, my mother says it does me good."

*****"Your lady mother expects you to act as a Princess." He admonished and for some reason the mention of his mother and his sudden change of tone when he mentioned her, stung and she lowered her eyes. "A good Christian wife must be penitent, observant of the laws, learned but above all she must be prudent and not speak unless she …" He waited for her to finish the phrase.

"Unless she is spoken to."

"Unless she is given permission to."

His correction had silenced Mary but it hadn't taken her resolve. She was who she was, she had told him. Nothing would change that.

* * *

"George, I need a favor from you." George turned to face his best friend and also his master.

"Yes, of course whatever you need."

"No, not now. It is-" he led his friend to dark corridor. "Mistress Stanhope."

"What?" Asked George, baffled.

Ferdinand rolled his eyes and whispered in his ear, seconds later George just stared, his eyes boggling, his mouth nearly hit the floor. "But … but … but Mistress Stanhope-" he stuttered.

"Is and shall be my wife. I only need you to arrange a meeting between the both of us –alone."

"I don't know if I can. The Queen-"

"My mother regards all my choices as foolish. She thinks of me a handsome fool, she says I can't think, I am impatient, reckless-"

"And you are." George said, still staring at his best friend in disbelief. "What message will this send to your mother if not to confirm what she already knows."

"George I love her."

"I do not doubt your feelings for her or hers for you but think! You would be putting her in danger if you wed her without royal consent and what will Parliament say about this?"

"Parliament will do whatever my parents tell them to do."

"Nando, your parents will never, mark my words, never approve of this marriage."

"You are right." Nando said after a long minute of silence and slowly his lips twisted in a smile. George sighed. "Please don't" he said knowing what was going through his friend's mind but Nando did not give him enough time to lecture him. He ran away and went to his sisters' chambers.

* * *

"Your Majesties."

"Come in Sir John. My husband and I, we were just discussing the matter over your son's knighting. We are terribly sorry we have postponed the ceremony but I am sure you can understand we had other pressing matters to attend."

"I do Your Majesty but that is not why I come here."

The Queen knit her eyebrows. "Oh?" She sat down in the armchair next to her husband who showed no interest at all in their conversation until he heard Sir John Seymour's grim tone. "Why are you here then?"

"Your Majesty, as you must know, my son due to irreconcilable differences separated from the Lady Catherine three years ago."

"Yes, that is very well known. We grieved for his loss; I imagine you must have been very wounded especially with the aftermath. Poor Lady Fillol! Not only did she lose a husband but her children were left destitute. As their grandfather you must have been distraught."

"Yes … I was." He said slowly avoiding the Queen's hard gaze. He did not miss the mocking tone in her voice. He cleared his throat. "Your Majesty as you know my son made a marriage offer to Mistress Stanhope's stepfather and-"

"He gladly accepted, We know this too. What is this all about Sir John? Did Mistress Stanhope refuse?"

She did more than that, he thought but he dared not say it yet.

She put her wine cup down in the table in front of them. "If that is the case Sir John I am afraid me and the King can do nothing. After all, this is a family matter, not a royal one."

"I am afraid it is Madame."

The King's head perked up hearing his Ambassador's change of tone. Sir John was an amiable man. Indeed some men called him the 'jolly good fellow'. _Jolly good fellow indeed,_ Katherine had mocked when he and his brothers returned to Court after their pyrrhic victory in Northern France. She did not like the man and made no secret of her resentment for him. There was something in the man that didn't feel right but Arthur couldn't stand and listened to any more of her complaints when he had just buried a brother. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea since his father had been on a process of knighting him but his sudden death changed everything. After Sir Thomas Boleyn and the fall of the Howards, he ordered John from the peace and quiet of his homestead in Wiltshire to his palace in Westminster where he swore him in as his Ambassador and knighted him.

Katherine said he would live long enough to regret it but once again, he had regarded his wife's rants as nothing more than paranoia –the product of her pregnancy. He grinned. She was right, he thought. But he would never tell her.

"Speak Sir John, why do you speak thus to my wife?" He turned to his wife. "I told you dear not to be too harsh on the man."

"I am sorry my lord but I cannot help it when your courtiers want to involve you in matters not your own." A sudden thought occurred to her, too gross to fathom but to irresistible for her to let it slip from her fingers and Sir John was here so might as well. She turned to Sir John. "Tell me Sir John has the girl decided to wed another, is that it? Another more dashing courtier?"

"You could say that." He mumbled.

Katherine looked at Arthur. "I told you." She said taking two pence from her purse. "It is not much but it's what you owe me for failing to listen to my warning."

"Madame I think you have mistaken Mistress Stanhope and my own conduct."

"I do not mistake anything Sir John. You do have an eye for younger, pretty hooves do you not?" She queried, laughing as his face turned pale.

So this is about that whore? If that how she wants to play then fine, I will confess it and then God be damned with the consequences I will force the Queen and King to reprimand their son.

God only knew if he was her son he would have boxed his ears already. He was just another spoiled aristocrat who thought he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted but he was here to show to him that he couldn't.  
He thought about his son Edward. He had not yet known about the betrothal. He supposed his father was just visiting the wench's mother because her stepfather's lands were so close to theirs but it was not. Sir John had had his eye on those lands for years since Anne Stanhope's mother had remarried and if Edward married her, then with their fortunes combined they could be one of wealthiest families in Wiltshire and who knew, perhaps in all Southern England. His son's ambition was such that it wouldn't be long before he rose above the ranks and became one of the most prominent men at Court. He was a good man and what was more important a good son. God knows, John tried very hard to rise above the ranks but he just didn't have the strength nor ambition his son possessed. He was smart, wise, good to accounts, handsome to a fault –although he never displayed it in outrageous fashion like his younger son, Thomas did- and he was a fast learner. He devoured every book; this did not make him a clerk by any chance. Edward was a courtier through and through but in comparison to the other men at court, he was definitely more learned and apt for business than they.  
They were all worldly men, true, but none of them had ever earned everything they had through the sweat on their backs or through the workings of their minds. They were part of the old aristocracy. They expected everything to be handed to them because that was their birthright. But _not_ Edward. He knew that if he wanted to rise in this world he had to work for it, and work for it he did.  
Now he was only one step away of forming a respectable family, the kind he didn't get when he married that adulterous whore but thanks to the Spanish Queen's son that too had been ruined by aristocratic arrogance.

"Madame I shall not deny my folly with my son's wife-"

"Ah so you admit it then." The Queen interrupted.

"Yes, Madame I do and not a day goes by that I do not do penance."

"Penance is not enough Sir John. One must feel it, otherwise it is just hypocrisy and an insult on the Lord's shrine."

"Yes, Your Majesty." He answered, forcing both hands together.

The King said nothing as Katherine continued her sermon. He stared, eyes wide with amusement at Sir John who got paler with every word.

"Is this girl giving you the same trouble? Me and His Majesty like to be generous to Our subjects and if Our subjects are betrayed naturally we feel betrayed too. After all, they are an extension of us and your son has proven himself worthy of the several appointments bestowed upon him. We would not want the sins of the father to cast down a shadow of doubt on his performance."

"Of course not." Sir John agreed. "And Her Majesty has spoken wisely but I am afraid that I must repeat myself once more: Your Majesty is wrong, my matter is very much your matter because it is not me who has danced with my son's betrothed this time but your son."

* * *

Anne woke up the sound of hard knocking. "Now what?" She heard her husband say, raising himself up. She turned away. She brought her hand to her mouth. He was naked but he did not seem to notice until he saw himself in the mirror. He put on a chemise and shouted at whoever was knocking that he was coming.

Not surprisingly when he opened, it was his sister Mary. "What do you want?"

"Has the bedding ended?"

Anne laughed.

Ferdinand narrowed his eyes. "Get out!" He barked but she was faster and moved past him when he attempted to push her away.

"Is that blood? Why is there so much? And why are Anne's legs red? Did you hurt her?" She asked crossing her arms against her chest. Her tone was neither serious nor amusing, it was just neutral yet her eyes were very serious and they told him she wasn't going to move unless he told her. So he did and when he finished her face contorted in disgust.

"Ugh! How can you do that? That's disgusting, it should not be!"

"That is what man and woman do Mary when they want to make babies."

At the last word, Mary's face brightened. "When?" She asked clapping her hands, her mind working on all the things she would teach and do with this little niece and nephew.

"I do not know, you will have to wait. Now out."

"But I have so many questions. Does it hurt Mistress Anne?" In response, Anne railing with laughter.

Mary grew frustrated and turned to her brother demanding answers.

Her brother responded with the same two words. "Get out!" and she did this time seeing she would get nothing more out of it, but as she was about to go she spun around and opened her mouth, but her brother yelled in annoyance "Get out!"

Mary stuck her tongue and slammed the door behind her. "Thank God!" Anne said. "I don't think I could have stood another laughing round."

"Goodness gracious, she never stops does she?" Anne shook her head then burst into more laughter. He took her in his arms and pulled her into the bed. He had been growing some muscle over the last summer after Mary had turned nine. He had been attending his jousting lessons and while he could not rival his older brothers, he was gaining everybody's attention, especially the ladies. But there was only one he cared about and she was currently in his arms.

"Your parents will hate me." The words came so easy. "They will think I am responsible for plucking their duckling from mother goose."

"And they are right." He said showing her his confident smirk. "You have bewitched me and ruined me for any other beautiful woman."

"Are you saying that the other ladies are more beautiful than me?"

"Nay, that is not what I am saying Mistress Anne but you are terribly bewitching, you most certainly have cast a spell on me." He said in a huskier tone, nearing her lips. "I must possess you."

"Then do so but remember my lord it is not Mistress Anne anymore." She said as their lips clashed.

"No? What is it then?"

"Your Grace, Lady Richmond." She said with a wicked grin then took his lips against her own.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Children of Henry VIII by John Guy, notes, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Sister Queens: The Noble and Tragic Lives of Katherine and Juana by Julia Fox, and Game of Thrones/ Song of Ice and Fire by GRRM.**


	14. Chapter 13

Arthur's pacing stopped suddenly. Had his warning to Edward been strong enough? That was why Arthur told Katherine he preferred to send Edmund instead of Edward but his brother was indisposed. He and Eleanor were waiting for their fourth and final child, and she had recently entered confinement. His physician told them she could not expect any more children.  
"Face it," Edmund told his brother one cold morning when he and Katherine arrived to their mansion in Bridewell. The mansion had been a gift from his wife to her niece and sister-in-law Eleanor. Eleanor had done a wonderful job remodeling it and adding new rooms for their growing family, including for her firstborn children with his late brother Henry. "We are not getting any younger and childbirth is dangerous. I don't want her to tax her, it is better we have our last child now before it is too late."

He understood his concerns perfectly yet he could not help but ask, "How are you going to be able to prevent it brother? You are both still young _and_ you will not be able to resist her for long."

"Nay, I will not but we can try. There are other ways to enjoy sex without spurting my seed."

Arthur grinned, coming back to the present. If there was anyone who knew it was Edmund. Since he was very young he had showed an aptitude for medicine and an interest for apothecary science that their mother had secretly fostered placing him in Henry's school room with Sir Thomas More and countless other humanists who for the most part worked in the palace as the court's official physicians. *****Dr. Linacre was among them. He had taught Edmund everything he knew about medicine, herbs, the human body, and illnesses and had been a gem amongst the other members of his illustrious court.

Arthur was sad to see him go. Mary missed him very deeply; he said that she had been his brightest student and all of his last writings had been dedicated to the Princess and his oldest student, Prince Edmund. He and his wife believed that Master Vives among other foreign scholars would be a good replacement and would make her forget Dr. Linacre but they were wrong. Not only were their oldest and youngest children stubborn, they were also rebellious. They refused to learn anything that was contrary to their beliefs. And it was often the case that he had to go to their respective households to enforce discipline to make sure they studied.

They were no different than their parents were at that age, though there was something in Mary that reminded him of his Yorkist grandfather and his brother's namesake, Edward IV by the way she behaved and got attention by the younger, older, and boys her age. Perhaps Margaret is right and she is more York than Tudor.

He shook his head. No. Mary was Tudor through and through. There was no denying it. In spite of her flaming red mane, her fair features, her heart-shaped face, her dark grey eyes spoke more than a thousand words. She was a Tudor.

He sat in his chair and looked at his wife's rosary. She had gotten a new one. A gift from Wolsey she hated using. She said he should have gotten rid of the man and his benefices long ago but there was little he could do. The man was after all –ironically- one of the most trustworthy men he had in the Catholic Church in England. *****He and Warham were the only ones in God's sacred institution he could trust. England's long stability, its peace and tranquility were owed to him more than Arthur. He barely had time to attend all the Council meetings and state business every time they moved from palace to palace in fear of the plague –something his wife and his family hated but he knew that if his brother Henry had been alive he would have understood for he too had a real fear of the plague. *****He had no choice but to leave the greater state business to Wolsey. It was only natural. Kings were supposed to trust their councilors and Wolsey had proven despite allegations of corruption within his own circle, more than once.

The doors opened and he rose. "Well?" He asked impatiently.

Wolsey tried to avoid His Majesty. If this was his son he would have boxed his ears and leave him to a bloody pulp until his whole body was soft as a boiled apple. But ah damn His Majesty and these royals' love for their children. He did not understand it and it was obvious why. He was a simple man. The son of an Ipswich butcher who had risen through the rank and amassed many great enemies because of it. He did not expect any favors from life. All his life he had lived through one simple ordinance and that was _"Help thyself as others have not help thou"_ and it had become his personal motto when he became Archbishop of York.

He remembered the time so well. His mistress Joan was there. She had just born their third child and he was so happy when he was appointed Archbishop of the diocese of York, and she announced he was going to be a father for the third time that same day. It seemed like God was favoring them above the rest, but as usual a man of very little importance such as he, everything was taken away. His mistress had not survived the birthing and neither had the child. Both died five minutes apart from each other but Thomas had refused to cry. Tears, his father had always said, were for the weak. And Thomas was not weak. No. He was resilient so he steeled himself and the next day, buried the woman who had been the only woman whom he had fully given his heart and soul and then returned to the King's palace in Greenwich in time for the festivities.

Now as Wolsey steeled himself once more, his face was devoid of any human emotion. He gave a false smile that communicated security to the middle age King and told him what he had heard. "Sir John has written to our lady of Richmond's stepfather, he says that he is completely unaware by what has happened and begs Your Majesty not to implicate him in what your daughter has done."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, the Lady of Richmond requests an audience with Your Majesties. She humbly asks to meet you and your wife and begs your forgiveness."

"Was this her idea or my son's?"

"The handwriting is your son." Thomas said simply.

"But the idea is hers." Said Arthur bitterly. He grabbed the scabbard that lay on the sette and unsheathed his sword then threw it across the room, shattering the window into a million pieces and the sword was thrust out into the open. Arthur turned away from the Cardinal. It had been a gift from his sons for his thirty eighth birthday, he promised them he would treasure them above the rest. It was the first time he had shown more favor to any of his children besides Mary.

Now it was gone. One of the palace servants would see it and sell it to the black market and it would never be seen or spoken of again. And all because of Ferdinand. "Damn that boy." He said in a silent but deathly voice, turning to the Cardinal. His eyes blazed with fury.

"How did this happen? Did you not tell me Mistress Stanhope was going to be married to your new usher? That was the whole reason I allowed Sir John to place him in your household."

"Yes sire but I am afraid your son has much of his Plantagenet ancestors in him-"

"Do not sire me! How did this happen? You are supposed to know everything, **everything** that goes on in this realm. How did this escape you?"

"Your Majesty-" Arthur stopped him and grabbed him by the collar and pinned him against the wall. It was the first time he had ever used violence against one of his subjects and seeing the deathly look on the King's eyes, Wolsey grew scared.

"You will annul this marriage, take this to Parliament and to the Privy Council, wherever you please I don't care but see to it that it is done." He let go of the frightened Cardinal and spun around going to the window to look outside. As he predicted, his sword was nowhere to be found. Damn you.

Without waiting for a dismissal the Cardinal left the King's study and headed to his apartments where he found the Queen patiently waiting for him. Next to her were the King's grandmothers and mother, the Queen Dowager.

"Your Majesties, my lady Wydeville, Lady Derby, tis a pleasure to see you."

Margaret Beaufort gave him a cold smile. "I assume you know why we are here Eminence." Elizabeth of York said, her voice soft and smooth against the coarseness found in both her mother and mother-in-law.

"I do." He said. The sat down and began discussing the matter of the Prince and his elopement with Mistress Stanhope.

"He dares to give insult marrying a commoner." Wolsey began seeing the former Queen of England moving her lips. "The King as you must know by now has given me the task of ensuring the marriage is not recognized, both by secular and canon law."

"And why should His Majesty have the privilege of annulling his son's marriage?" Elizabeth spoke, relieved the Cardinal had finished with his sermon. Hearing him was as boring as hearing the Earl of Warwick and he was incredibly dull. "Has His Majesty ask his son for his opinion?"

"No, but there is no need to. He is not yet of age to give his consent and in any case the King is the only person who can pass judgment on these matters. The Privy Council only needs to give their consent to make it official."

"So then it is not official."

Wolsey opened his mouth to rebuke her but the Queen spoke. Her voice was soft and her tone as serene as the Queen Elizabeth's yet there was a crispness to it that none of the other women possessed and her gaze was also calculating. "What our lady grandmother intends to say Archbishop is that should the King decide to annul the marriage, it should be befitting for the parties involved to give their opinion first before any drastic measure can be taken."

"Your Majesty, the King has spoken and Mistress Stanhope, should she, in the event that Parliament does rule in the favor of the marriage, be recognized as His Highness' lawful wife will never be accepted by the English people. She is not …" he smirked pushing his hand to his mouth. "… Princess material."

"Is that so Archbishop?" The Queen queried turning to her grandmother-in-law, the former York Queen. She had been a commoner herself, and had it not been for that tiny spec of royal blood in her through her mother Jacquetta, the court would have never accepted her. And even then, she had to battle every enemy to cement her position and in the end it had been for nothing. Richard had stolen her son's crown, disinherited her children and imprisoned her only sons. She never knew what happened to them, part of her suspected it was her son-in-law or Richard who had done the evil deed but truth be told, she did not want to know. It was easier, she guessed, to live in bliss. And besides, her ambitions had come true. It was her offspring and their offspring who ruled England and would rule it for many years to come.

Seeing her angry look, Katherine took her grandmother-in-law's hand and clutched it. Elizabeth Wydeville did not show revulsion from her act. Had it been another upstart she might have but the Spanish Princess was different. She too had been born in hardship and grown up in war, and like her, she had the unwavering belief that God would be with her no matter what. She believed it was her destiny to be England's Queen and nothing would deter her from that belief. Nothing.  
Elizabeth smiled, showing genuine respect for the younger woman. "If my lord husband were to agree to the marriage the people would be the least of our concerns." The Queen said. "The councilors will listen to him and grant their support to my son's union once you join him."

"Your Majesty, as always your charity to the common people is admirable but the fact remains he disobeyed a direct order from his lord father and the lady in question also failed to please her family. Her previous engagement with Sir John's son-"

"Was not to her knowledge and of no consequence. I know canon law just as you do Eminence."

"Your Majesty, I merely state the facts."

"The facts are she did not have knowledge, none of us did for that matter. Therefore her marriage to my son is valid." She said and suddenly she sported a look on her face that said she had grown terribly bored and she and the rest of the royal women stood. "You can sit Your Eminence, we do not wish to tax you anymore than we already have. But should you speak to my husband on this matter again, you will find him a very changed man." She said then before leaving she turned and smiled sweetly, "Good day Your Eminence." The doors closed behind her and Wolsey nearly fell out of his chair as he brought a hand to his damped forehead.

These royals and their amorous pursuits –nothing but a childhood fancy, yet the Prince believed himself very much in love and who were they to say otherwise?- were going to be the death of him.

* * *

A week later they received a royal summons. The King and Queen had approved of their union and Parliament had promptly followed. "Tis a miracle." Meg said, herself not sure it would ever happen but one thing she had learned from her mother's family, her family –she thought now- more than with the Stewarts and her father's, the Douglases was that for them nothing was impossible.

They arrived by boat to Richmond Palace where they now resided. Construction to Hampton Palace, their father explained had undergone minor complications and struck by thunderbolt the left wing had been left in ruins. Ferdinand and Anne were horrified to hear this, Mary thought it was a sign from God and crossed herself. Meg however believed it was just coincidence but Mary told her not to say it out loud when the Bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner was nearby.

"Why are you so afraid of Gardiner?" She asked her cousin. Mary was never afraid of anything.

"He is a dangerous man Meg." Mary answered. "Lying, cunning, backstabbing. There isn't anything he will not do for power."

"Are our parents not the same though?" Meg asked, her eyes falling on her cousin and Mistress Stanhope. No, she must not think of her as Mistress Stanhope. She was Lady Richmond now, Princess Consort and wife to her cousin Ferdinand.

They bowed before the King and Queen, each holding their gaze down. They brought the bloodied sheets as proof, in case her husband's father decided to go back on his word and annul the marriage, their union had been consummated.

The King waved his hand and ordered the sheets to be taken away. His gaze fell on the young couple. So this is the young woman who captured my son's heart. She was beautiful and had he not been married to his wife, he would have fallen for those dark blue eyes but as it happened he was and he thanked God and the Holy Mother every day that They had placed her in his path. He could not imagine life without her.

"Sweetheart." He said to his wife, his eyes still on their son and his wife. "Would you mind gracing us with your opinion on this subject matter?"

*****Katherine was surprised but she composed herself quickly. "Not at all." She said, smiling sweetly then directed her gaze at the couple. "Lady Richmond please rise."

Anne did so and walked in her direction only to kneel again. "Rise Lady Richmond." She was told once more. "You are here as our guests and as our daughter. We did not ask you to come here as prisoners nor to humiliate you. We merely wish to meet the new member of our family and by the looks of it, you make for a very good wife. Would you not say my lord?"

Arthur stiffened. He could barely look at the little minx. She was terrible, beyond those quivering lips moving upwards into a smile and that olive-skinned beauty, was a conniving mind. She was the snake responsible for luring his son from his Eden, from his family. Had it not been for his wife he would have locked them both in the Tower until they admitted to the invalidity of the union. He could not bring himself to call it marriage because there was none yet his wife's persistent gaze forced him to nod knowing if he didn't she would deny him her bed.

"She is." He said reaching for his wife's hand.

His wife could feel his nails digging into her skin but she did not whimper nor show any emotion. Her smile remained plastered in her face.

"Sweetheart." She said, pointing her glance to Anne.

"Welcome to the family Lady Richmond. My son could have not chosen a better wife and England could not have been blessed with a better Consort." He rose and stared at all the members gathered in Court. "Let us all celebrate the union between my son and Mistress Stanhope, our new Lady of Richmond." Cheers erupted from the courtiers then the King ordered them to be moved to the Great Hall where a great banquet was prepared in honor of the couple's arrival.

Anne and Ferdinand were amazed by how much splendor they saw. It rivaled all of the previous celebrations, including his siblings' birthdays which had always been a great occasion to celebrate, especially his oldest brother, Arthur.

He was there to greet them. He hugged the bride first and whispered to his brother he had made quite a catch. Envious by his oldest brother eying Anne, he stepped in between them and told him it was nice to see him again.

Artie chuckled. He had not changed a thing, poor Nando still got angry over the littlest of things. His gaze shifted to his youngest sister and cousin, Mary and Meg. "Sister, I believe you grow more beautiful each day."

Mary smiled and returned the compliment. "Cousin Meg, you are as beautiful as our sister yet you have a calmer spirit. How is that possible?"

"Just because I be a Scott Artie does not mean I be fierce. Ye should see yer Princess here when she is around Master George. She always beats him at chess."

They laughed. The Prince of Wales was not surprised to hear that. Tudor temper. His parents called it but Artie who spent a lot of time with Mary knew better. None of his siblings had that temperament. Only Mary.  
Must be Yorkist, he thought.

"Speaking of George." Mary started looking around for her best friend. "Where is he?"

"Sister, I thought he came with you, you know how he holds your fancy."

Mary punched him in the shoulder but it did little more than tickle him. His laughter died down and told them to follow him. Once on the table Mary was surprised to see the figure dressed in red velvet whom she had not paid him any attention, was George.

"George!" Mary did not wait for the formalities, she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely on the cheek, giggling as his face turned red.

"My lady," he said, lowering his voice as the King and Queen neared, his mother and Anne among them since his sister was recently been appointed to her service.  
"It is a joy that you grace Court with your lovely presence."

"Do not be silly George. Say you are happy to see me."

The King would have his head if he responded as she did. He licked his lips, closed them, then opened them again but no sound came then frustrated with his lack of response, Mary brought him closer and despite him being five years older, she hugged him tighter and kissed him.

He saw his entire life flash before his eyes. Then he heard the King's footsteps and he knew his life was over. To his great shock when he turned to face the King, he was laughing.

"Cheer up Master George, We do not bite, do we Princess?" He said kneeling to his daughter. "No? Am I right? Of course I am. Come Master George, I bet you want to greet your mother and sister." The King led them to the center of the table where he got to sit next to the Princess who sat next to the Queen. Behind them were her mother's ladies, among them his mother and sister.

Lady Northumberland took the chance to sit on an empty chair that had been vacated when the Princess Isabella was invited by her Uncle, the Duke of Gloucester to dance. "So, the royal midget is in your paws?"

"Do not call her that."

"Oh George please, you know that is what everyone calls her, every sister who is afraid her brother is losing his heart to the royal cub. She will dance with you, she will use you and then when she marries into some royal House in Europe –perhaps Spain, perhaps Austria, perhaps some other House that is to the Queen's liking- she will forget you." He clicked her tongue and her hand fell to her stomach. "There will be nothing left of you in her to remember you except your shaft and that memory will soon be weathered if the husband her mother chooses for her pleases her in bed more than you."

"Anne!" He hissed, turning briefly to his Princess and the King and Queen to make sure they hadn't heard. He sighed in relief when he saw they were busy engaging in conversation. His eyes centered at Anne and it was the first time he spoke this harsh to her. "Do not be speaking of these things anymore or I swear I shall cut all ties from you."

Anne's response was only laughter. She made imaginary circles on her stomach. "You are young, too young and idealistic and a fool. You think you have a chance with the royal midget?" She laughed then grinned wickedly as George eyed her suspiciously then his gaze fell to her stomach and he understood. "Three months but it's barely visible. It will be healthy though, of that I am sure." She said quickly with a smile that radiated pure confidence though George who knew her better than anyone, could smell the fear on her.

She gave a small chuckle and leaned forward to whisper on his ear. "You asked once what makes a wife happy and my response was what is between a man's leg but it is not. What makes a woman truly happy is the gift of life her husband gives her." She said then eyed the Princess who turned to them and smiled. Anne returned the smile.

"Love her George, show her what love truly is. Do not shy away when the King approaches you, remember this is just an abnormality, he will not tolerate another incident of this kind, especially with his favorite cub." She said referring of course to his sister the Princess Mary who had defied royal orders -after she had become a widow, less than a year after her marriage to King Louis XII of France- marrying Charles Brandon who had been a simple Baron then. Not wanting though his sister to be reduced to a common Baroness he raised him to Duke. And of course the most recent, the Prince Ferdinand and Mistress Stanhope whose Queenly intervention had prevented it from becoming a mayor disaster.

George saw Mary laughing at something her mother said then looked to Anne, her gaze pointing at his best friend, Nando and his wife Anne, dancing below, and he realized she was right. He had to tread carefully and not make the same mistake his friend and his Aunt made.

* * *

The couple moved to *Berkhamsted Castle in Buckinghamshire. The castle had not been used since the death of Nando's great-great-grandmother, Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, in 1495. Forty years exactly. It was falling into ruins but Ferdinand had the intention to restore it. This was his chance to prove to his brothers he was worthy of his title and privilege.

Anne followed him, finding the first days there dull but she endured them all for Nando and because within her belly she could feel the promise of a new beginning, his seed had begun to flourish.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from GOT, Thomas Cromwell by Robert Hutchinson, Henry VIII: The King and his Court by Alison Weir, notes, and BBC Six Wives of Henry VIII**


	15. Chapter 14

"Mistress Richmond."

Anne laughed. "Lady Richmond." She returned and Mary laughed louder, her gaze then fell on her sister's swollen stomach, "When are you due?" Mary asked.

"I don't know. My husband's physicians assure me early June, but I should hope for May. Our birthdays would be close then."

"I like June better. A summer baby always brings happiness and most of the royal family has been born in Winter or Spring. It would be a nice change."

"It will be a good sign." Her sister joined.

"Oh Lizzie, you should not joke about these things. Our sister could have a girl for all we know. I think I would very much like a girl, I'd much prefer to be the Aunt of a fair girl like you Anne then a noisy boy like Nando." Isabella said entering Anne's bedchamber.

The sisters laughed but Anne stayed silent and shook her head. She placed a hand on her stomach. She could feel her _son_ kicking. It was a son, she told herself. No doubt existed on her mind. It was a son.

* * *

"Your Majesty." Arthur turned to the messenger. George Boleyn looked exhausted and he was breathing very fast. Arthur motioned for him to sit.

He took long deep breaths then relayed the message.

"So it is a son." Arthur said calmly turning to his oldest son who was playing cards with his father.

"Yes, Your Majesty. They have named him Henry Arthur in honor of Your Majesty's royal person and your father."

"Good. How is our Lady Richmond?" Arthur asked turning his attention back to the game. He still refused to acknowledged that upstart wench as his daughter. It didn't matter what Katherine had said, the girl was and always would be common dirt. Through her runs the blood of filthy urchins with only one tiny spec of royal blood. She had defiled his House and bewitched his son. Everything he had planned for his youngest son, he had thrown away for that woman.

"She is faring well and asks of Your Majesties to stand as godfather and godmother for your grandchildren since this is your first grandchild and a grandson." He added rather quickly hoping to catch the King's attention but the King remained centered in his game.

"Mmm?" Asked Arthur when George cleared his throat, completely oblivious to the fact he had been standing there, waiting for his answer for more than seven minutes. "Tell our Lady Richmond I will think about, I will send her my reply before nightfall."

"But Your Majesty she has already named you-"

"Then I do not have to give her my reply then. You may leave Master Boleyn and congratulations you have just been knighted."

"Your Majesty!" Exclaimed George; barely able to voice his gratitude. Him a knight! Anne will be pleased. And this put him one step ahead in Mary's path. He would not make the same mistake as his friend's wife, he would not snatch Mary from the royal cradle to his filthy one. He would give her jewels, mansions, everything a woman desired and more importantly the love and respect a woman of her caliber deserved.

"I do not know what to say." He said stuttering as he tried to put his thoughts together into words but the King held his hand up and stopped him.

"You do not have to say nothing Sir George. You may leave now and tell your master, my son, that me and the Queen are both pleased."

Sir George bowed and left his room, going to the stables where he took his horse and rode back to Eltham Palace. The weather made it impossible to reach it in time, by the time he did the Christening had already occurred and on the lack of a reply, Anne and Nando had chosen Mary, Lizzie and their Uncle, Edward, the Duke of Gloucester to stand as Godmothers and Godfather respectively for their son.

"I am terribly sorry." George said when he was received by Nando in the solar.

Anne was not yet out of her rooms. She hated waiting for her churching. She said it was nothing but pure nonsense and George could not help but agree. The rules the Church had in respect of women were getting more ridiculous. It was a shame their Queen was educated in the strict and militant Catholic tradition of Spain. If she hadn't she would have seen how the Church not only defiled the sacred teachings but made laws as it went along stealing money from their flock, including the Kings, their most sacred sovereigns who were not allowed the supremacy in their kingdoms as was their right by sacred law.

George shook these thoughts away as his friend spoke.

"Do not be. I am not. My father would have likely recanted. He said so when I told him that Anne was with child. He said 'Yes, I shall be godfather. I shall have a grandson'. He was very excited and would not stop talking about it then what happened? On the very next day said he didn't want to know anything about him. He does not act this way with his other children, he is very humble with Arthur and very playful with Mary but with me, it's like I am invisible."

"It is terrible." Ferdinand said sitting down. He supposed being a father would bring him happiness, prove to his father he was worth something but it had not. Relations between him and his father had not been worse.

George was about to reply when the doors opened. "Ah Master Seymour, just in time. Please sit." Ned's lips twitched in distaste as he sat next to George Boleyn. He knew how the young Boleyn saw him. He viewed him as an obstacle. He wanted to laugh and yell to George Boleyn's face he would rather face the block then cross that royal midget's path but he guessed George Boleyn by looks alone was not the type of person who listened to reason.

Too bad, he thought. His father was a man of reason and faith, in his own way.

"Your Highness called for me?" Ned asked the Prince.

"Yes Master Seymour please relay to my future brother-in-law what a spitfire Her Highness could be." George's eyes widened. Ferdinand chuckled. "Do not be mortified George, it is not as if we do not know what goes through your knightly mind."

George sighed in relief yet it did not make him feel safer. If Ferdinand who wasn't the smartest pebble in the King's royal little could figure it out, who was to say this filthy urchin Seymour had not figured it out as well? He might be looking for revenge for Nando stealing his wife, he thought.

"Her Highness, our sister Mary put cow dung in your shoes last week, did she not?"

"Your Highness, I do not think this is a subject we should be discussing. The Princess Mary bears no fault. The fault lies on me and only me alone." Ned said looking straight into the newly named young Boleyn Knight. He was not going to ruin one person's happiness just because his was ruined. In any case, he didn't believe he could have been happy with that upstart Stanhope girl. She was only sixteen and he was twenty, big difference. He doubted the girl had yet matured and seeing by the silly grin on His Highness' face every time he emerged from their bedchamber, he guessed not.

They humped like a pair of monkeys and he had to stand guard outside their door every night. It was routine and he already knew the sounds they made and when they would make it. This is ridiculous, he thought. I should be named a knight not he.

George Boleyn's affiliation to the Princess was the only reason why he had been named knight. The boy had done nothing for the realm. He had to work his way through the ranks to even get noticed but so far because of that royal midget his hard work had gotten him nowhere.

He hated the sight of her. Everywhere he went she made fun of him and her laughter was like a little mewing instead of a lioness which she often boasted she was.

"Master Seymour has spoken, the fault lies with his person not with the royal person of your sister. She is a dutiful daughter and she stood as godmother to your son, that speaks more than thousand words."

"Yes and she is stubborn, proud, arrogant, she believes the whole world should bow to her feet."

"Nando, Nando, please! If you know what your intentions are with your sister, you are not doing me any favors or her, putting her in that light."

"You will be marrying a shrew George, I am only saving you from this royal pain."

"I do not wish to be saved, with all due respect you and my family have spoken for me all my life, I wish to speak for myself for once. I love your sister and I think if I were ever to marry her, she would make a good wife."

Nando nearly dropped out of his chair in laughter. "That is where you are wrong my friend. If you only knew my sister as well as I do or as well as poor Master Seymour I am sure knows her, you would know she will never be contented with the life of a housewife."

"She will have to if she is my wife. I would make sure every need of hers is met." George said confidently.

"Keep deluding yourself my friend. My sister knows only one love and that is love for her person nothing else. Mother jests that she is too much like our late Uncle, Henry and our Uncle Edward."

"Is that such a bad thing? If she loves herself as much as I love her then by me loving her, she would love me because I love her."

Nando shook his head but praised his friend on his good rhetoric. He dismissed both men and violating every sacred law of the Catholic Church, he returned to his wife's bedchamber.

* * *

Arthur returned to his chambers after a long night. Contrary to popular belief it was his brother as with all Henrys whom he had to cover from their mother's watchful eye, not the other way around.

He chuckled as he remembered how shocked Bessie Blount's father was when he discovered them in their daughter's chambers. They were dressed in beggars' clothes and had to make a run for it before her father chased them with his sword and hacked them down to pieces.

He laughed even harder remembering what Henry did when they arrived to Ludlow, his royal residence. He bedded their sister Isabella's chief lady-in-waiting for twelve hours no less! Isabella, always a noisy woman, said she counted the hours and arrived the following morning to his chambers, interrupting his bath with the gossip.

Arthur remarked his brother would go to hell if he continued down this moral decay but Isabella had laughed and said it would be rather fun to have a King like him.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. How old are you brother that you have not taken a royal wife or a mistress for that matter?"

"My dear sister, first I am not our Uncle Edward who God bless him in spite of all his fighting spirit, has not yet settled into the comfort a marriage bed can give him and second, I am not like the rest of our family whose Yorkist blood makes their run hot and clouds their reason."

"You are no fun brother. I dread to think how duller England will become under you. I should think we shall never have a merry King like our great-grandfather, Edward IV." She sighed. "Those were the days."

"So our Lady Great-grandmother says. Personally, I prefer the days of peace, merriment and quiet."

"Without good wars? What kind of life is that? A mind needs the thrill of the hunt, passion, without those two ingredients, life is meaningless."

"To you perhaps, but to me peace, merriment, knowledge," he emphasized, "are the key ingredients to a healthy life."

She chuckled and shook her head, suddenly as she shifted her eyes to the book he was reading, she noticed how the title was in High Dutch. She remembered her brother had been appointed an Instructor who could teach him German and High Dutch for his prospective wife. The Cardinal's new secretary had suggested a German Alliance in the absence of the more important European kingdoms.

"Tsk, tsk," she said shaking her head. "If our lord father and lady mother should find this."

Arthur snatched the book from her hands and shot her a warning glare that she did not paid any heed to. "You will speak of this to no one."

She laughed in response. "Nay, I shan't but I should think a man of learning such as you would be wiser than to put these books out in the open where everyone can see them."

"'Tis not my fault, you always come without permission." He said gritting his teeth as his sister looked through his room. She was like a bitch sniffing around for food. "Ah here is another one. Shame, big brother. You will break our poor mother's heart."

"Bella, I mean it."

"What should I demand of you? I wonder, what can the mighty Prince of Wales give me? Our heretic Prince I should say." She giggled looking mercilessly at Arthur.

Arthur sighed, he had no choice but to give in to his sister's demands. "What do you want?"

"Respect, your promise that when our lord father gives me in marriage you shall speak in my favor if I find my husband repulsive."

"I cannot do that."

"You will. You would not want these forbidden books in the hands of our father would you or worse in the hands of his most prominent scholar, Sir Thomas More, now would you?"

"No." He agreed, his head lowered in defeat.

"Thought so now listen up brother because for a week you shall be called to serve on me and ask others to address me as Her Most Honorable, His Highness' Royal Sister."

"You are already addressed as Your Highness."

"Not with those words and I always feel envious that you, our brothers, and our little sister Mary get treated with so much respect. Even the twins have their own allure, being twins after all but me? I feel very left out."

Arthur sighed and gazed up, glaring at his sister. "This is blackmail."

"Blackmail sounds so evil; I prefer to think of it as coercion, extortion, entrapment." She said smiling sweetly. "Well brother, what do you say? Will you grant your sweet sister this small wish?"

More like bitter and power-hungry, vain snake. He thought but had no choice in the end but to accept and for one week as he promised everyone in his household called her the Most Honorable and His Highness of Wales Most Honorable and Loved Sister.

Arthur rolled his eyes every time she passed him and he had to lower his head for her. When Henry asked what was all this charade for, he simply told his brother "Do not ask."

Henry did not ask any further but he thought the matter too funny not to take advantage and mock his older sibling while it lasted. When his weekly punishment had ended, Bella left and kissed him on the cheek reminding him of his most important promise. "Remember brother I am not like our sisters, this bitch's bark hurts more than her bite. I will tell our lord father about your books and your Cambridge professors if you do not keep your promise." Then she smiled and boarded her carriage and both he and Henry watched her depart.

Women, the youth thought. They will be the death of me. He thanked God that he was not marriage, and he prayed that night he never was. He told his physician Doctor Butts and one of his tutors, Master Barnes that he hoped never to marry and that if his father did decide to marry him to this German Princess, that she would not be annoying and plotting as the women in his family.

The last thing he needed was another Margaret Beaufort, another Elizabeth Wydeville, or Isabella Tudor meddling around in his affairs. "Good riddance." He told Henry when they discussed the subject.

Unlike him, Henry was very eager to be married and he was probably the only one of the two remaining brothers who was. "And who would you chose? Do not tell me wee Mary of Scotland?"

"Why not? She is the right age and she is ripe for marriage. Her mother hardly talks about her because of our Aunt was angry she was born at such a painful time when her husband was hacked down to pieces by our mother."

"Henry, you know she is a vile snake, everyone says so. Even her own brother, our cousin, the King of Scotland is repulsed by her."

"Our cousin is a lusty man as me, he is intimidated by strong women but I think that men should not be. He is King after all and she is as you said just a snake and snakes are easily handled if you know how to handle them."

"You speak of women as if they are horses. They are not. They are the vilest creatures on this planets and aye, I think the smartest. You can't bargain with them, you can't control them, they have a mind of their own and they are always plotting. It is in their nature."

"Then I think it a very interesting nature. I would not want a wife that is agreeable, I want a challenge. I have spoken to father on this several times, he promises me he will find me a wife who is worthy of me."

"You are the second son of a King with many Uncles, including many cousins, now a nephew. The Princess he will chose for you will likely be the younger daughter of a minor Duke." He said angrily, crossing his arms.

"Temper, temper. I think not. Father has chosen for you after all the Duke of Cleves' youngest daughter, a younger daughter of a lesser lord." Henry pointed out, laughing as his brother growled in response.

"It falls on to me then to have the rich spoils. I think Marguerite of Navarre's daughter would suit me. They say that her beauty is incomparable and if she is as interesting as her mother, I think we will spend countless nights debating over religious matters."

"You can have her then, I have no interest in being lectured on religious matters."

"But Arthur, her mother is a heretic just like you! I am sorry, did I come to close?"

"You know better than to speak these matters," he stopped looking around at their servants. He waved them off. "here."

"Nobody will tell father and Marguerite's fair daughter is said to be like her. I think I should be happy."

"You are fortunate then, my wife is likely to be pale and sour and know nothing of these matters except what she has been told." Arthur said filling his wine cup. The thought of spending the rest of his life with a woman he knew nothing about and by what Sir Thomas said about her, was neither beautiful nor pleasing to the eye, turned his stomach upside down.

His sister believed him a prude but she was wrong. He had his affairs but he was discreet. Unlike the other members of his family he did not go shouting, showing off his male prowess. He was _very_ discreet and he knew how important he was to the realm and his parents that he would never do something that would endanger his position or stain the good name of his parents and his family.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, Tudors by John Guy, and Henry VIII and his Court by Alison Weir.**


	16. Chapter 15

"Mama." Young Harry said, the toddler fell on his knees crying for his mama.

Anne picked him up and handed him to Mary. "Where is your handsome brother?"

"I do not know." Mary shrugged, between her older siblings and Anne, she didn't know what went on through their household anymore. Anne and Nando had become strangers to their own family and her and Meg were only ones that had supported them through their tough time getting their parents' approval.

"Have you checked the Prince's closet? He spends most of his time there, when Arthur is not teasing him." Meg said playing with her dolls. She hated dolls but these were special because both her namesakes had given them to her.

"I have but Arthur is there. I swear I don't like that man." Anne said casually. It was no secret she didn't like her brother-in-law and the feeling was mutual.

"He is the Crown Heir. How can you not like him?" Anne shrugged. "He is a good Prince, everyone loves him and the women die to bed him but he's turned everyone down. He is the most popular Prince in Europe. Erasmus has said that there is no nobler Prince more religious, more observant of God's laws than him."

"And more snobbish, arrogant, deceitful." Anne interrupted. "Everyone knows that things are not what they seem in this Court and Ludlow Castle is the home for gossip and scandal. Perhaps he has bedded every woman already."

"Those are just rumors. Henry has already confessed to his dalliances and that Arthur covered for him."

"That is what he says but why should your brother confess so quickly? There is no other explanation for it; Arthur was bedding all those women and poor Bessie Blount. With child! If he was my son," Anne said in outrage. For some unknown reason she felt pity for the woman. She heard how poor Bessie had begged the Cardinal for her dismissal from the Queen's service but in the end it mattered very little when it was the Queen who had the King's ear on this matter, yet the Cardinal a wily political animal had convinced His Majesty to take pity on the poor girl. So Arthur had her sent to a convent where she gave birth to her bastard.  
"I would box his ears until they were red." Anne said looking at her son, squiggling in Mary's arms. She took him from Mary and kissed his forehead then gave him to his wet-nurse. She hoped her son never turned out like his Uncles. He had too much of that bad York blood in him. His mane was red as his Plantagenet ancestors, Lancaster and York. She feared he would. He only had her eyes as proof he was not entirely of that bad brood.

"You can't blame him. Mistress Blount, knew what she was doing, everyone who knew her, heard how she boasted she had the Duke of Clarence in her pockets."

"Aye." Mary agreed. "Any blind man can see it is Henry's son. He has his pale blue eyes and his pale skin. The only one of our siblings who has that complexion."

"That doesn't prove anything, he could have gotten from your father. King Arthur has pale complexion after all, despite his complexion acquiring color over the years it still remains paler than the rest of his siblings, including Lady Catherine who is paler than the rest of the royal women, even your lady Seymour is not so pale."

"That is not relevant. He is Henry's son, clearly if you should see him."

"I will not see him. I don't think Nando even should. He is a bastard and nothing especial, you would do well if you do not associate yourself with your brother's bastard."

"The King, our father, has named him Earl of Grantham."

"He would not dare!"

"He did." Mary said patiently, hiding her smile as she turned the other way. She was happy that her nephew had been honored. Poor mite, it wasn't his fault that he was born on the wrong side of the blanket. "He named him this past weekend, you were absent because of Harry's birthday. You should come to visit him on his residence this weekend, the entire family is coming. Uncle Edward says that-"

"No! I will not." She interrupted, surprising the royal women. Meg blinked.

"Anne he is just an innocent boy."

"No he is not. He is a bastard. What has he done for the country, what has his father, if he is indeed his father, Henry our brother done for this country except moan and complain? He's being bestowed honors for doing nothing and his son, his good for nothing bastard is named Earl!" She bolted from her chair with such force the chair fell.

Mary and Meg looked at each other. Of course, how could they not see it? Mary shook her head sadly. Anne was very afraid for her position. Despite doing her duty, it was not easy being the wife, the commoner wife at that of a royal son and heir. Even if he was at the bottom of a food chain, who knew what the future held? A son was a son and marriages were made with other royalty or at the very least with noble women descended from royalty with the purpose to secure the royal dynasty, nothing more.

Without lineage, more importantly without the dim security she had because of her son, she was nothing. By the end of the day she was just another commoner dressing up in wealthy clothes pretending to be something she was not.

* * *

Lady Northumberland giggled as George told her what his best friend's brother did. "And the King honors his wife by pushing her aside for their son's whore's plea."

"Anne don't say that. Mistress Blount only did as she was told. Could you have said no to the Duke of Clarence?"

"I think so."

"No, you would not have Anne, nobody says no to royalty."

"I would have." She insisted and George knew better than to argue with his sister. "I would have kept my virtue until he placed a ring in my hand. Marriage George is the only way to secure your future, always remember that if you want to keep the Princess' favor. It will do you no good making her into a whore like her brother. Remember she is a Princess not a second hand court singer. Treat her George, and she will remain in your pockets." She said and kissed her brother goodbye on his left cheek.

Her husband came to take her to their chambers where their eldest son and daughters waited for them to enjoy a game of midnight chess before going to bed.

* * *

His wife came at last. She was only twelve years. *"Soon to be thirteen, Your Majesties." The Cleves Ambassador, Count Orlisger said thrusting the young German Princess forward to meet her betrothed.

Unfortunately at the minute she did Henry crossed paths and his laugh only made her turn away. When she turned back she gave him an angry glare and exclaimed –"Sir, I think you owe me some respect." She exclaimed, her eyes throwing daggers.

Henry laughed even harder and stepped aside so she would finally get to meet her real betrothed.

The young Prince of Wales did not get the chance to see his bride when she came in. He was looking at all sides, already committed not to like her but when he saw her she was unlike anything he had been told of her prior to her arrival.

Sir Thomas More's daughter, Liza More who had recently married his youngest brother's Master of the Horse and *Cardinal Wolsey's Usher, Edward Seymour, had said her father had turned away from the awful sight when he was sent to Cleves with court painter Master Holbein to paint a portrait of her. He had consulted with Sir Thomas More, the renown philosopher and one of the finest minds England had, about his future wife and he had confirmed what his daughter said.

"She is ugly and extremely bias and adamant against the Holy Mother Church yet paradoxically Your Highness, her father as her brother remain observant of all of Her laws. There can only be one explanation behind this heresy and that is her mother. The Duchess of Cleves is known for her practicality. Practicality and faith do not often go together. Practicality is a bad mistress to have."

He went on to say how most of the Protestant League had sent their own tutors, all approved by Luther, to the Princesses and future Duke of Cleves before they had arrived.

*He did not care for More's opinion. The man was a staunch Catholic. His opinion was more bias than what he claimed the Lady of Cleves was. But when his eyes locked with the Princess of Cleves, and she realized as well that everything she was told of him was wrong, an understanding reached between tehm.

"My Lady Anna, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Your Highness, Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales, Earl of Chester and Duke of Cornwall."

"What a pleasure and how odd Your Highness puts his earldom before his dukedom."

"A Prince often puts important things that seem less before the ones that seem important. Forgive me if I confuse you, I am not good with speeches as you might already have noticed."

"Tis not your fault, your duty is to your country and your country cares to be fed, to have food for their families on their table, to meet ends meet."

"My Lady is a philosopher." Arthur remarked, showing her a bright smile. Just then his parents came down taking the two youths from their trance.

"Your Majesties." Anna said bowing her head very low and curtsying then before the King and Queen.

"Our Lady of Cleves. You are more beautiful than Holbein's portrait of you." The King remarked and the Queen smiled, nodding her head in agreement.

"My Lady, have you eaten yet? Please tell me they fed you before you set off to progress."

"They did Your Majesty, you have the kindest people, everyone has been so kind, including the Cardinal who sent me his own Usher during my progress."

"Good, good, it is all good to hear. But I bet you must be starving, it is past your fast and how long has it been since then?" She smiled sweetly and kissed each cheek. "Let us sit together, you will have my son all to yourself after the wedding, but for now you are in our keepsake, and you must tell us all about Cleves."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The girl said inclining her head lower. If there had been any thought of friction between the Queen and future Queen, there wasn't any longer.

Anna breathed a sigh of relief and took her seat between the Queen and her oldest daughter Isabella. She saw her oldest sister-in-law. She was very attractive but she did not possess the natural beauty and kindness the Queen and her other female relations had. Just by looking at her face alone she could see the arrogance coming from her eyes and venom not yet spewed from her mouth.

* * *

Mary was flourishing before everyone's eyes into a beautiful –and attractive, thought George- young woman.

"My Lady," Mary's head was brought down from the clouds. She gazed at the helmeted knight in front of her.

"Mary dearest, give him your favors." Her mother said, and Mary was forced to do so when her mother repeated her sentence for a third time.

She didn't like her daughter being rude to her subjects, it was not lady-like and more importantly it was not Princess-like behavior.

*But Mary had always been the more spirited of the royal women. Thrusting his lance forward, the knight waited patiently for the Princess to wrap her favors around it as was customary for young maidens.

When she wrapped her colors –blue and green, the Tudor colors- he raised his lance and bowed his head. Mary nodded and gave a small smile, mumbling something barely audible by those present but that he caught before he rode off. _I hope you lose._

Royal daughter of a… Just like her mother! Ned sighed. He could not be thinking of her now. He had to concentrate on the match. This was his chance to get notice. Hard work and competence he quickly learned after he had finally been knighted and the King had given him the *governorship of Jersey after hearing of his good work (and a letter of recommendation from the Cardinal), got him nowhere.

The governorship would get him no higher than the average courtier and the court was filled with young knights and upstarts. He did not want to be another knight, another upstart. He wanted to be one of them, a nobleman, an aristocrat. He was going to take what he wanted just like they did; he was not going to spend his life waiting for another chance to drop from the sky.

The flags were lowered and Edward rode forward. The other's opponent mare was on heat and Edward noticed it by how hard it had been to calm her down before the tourney began. Not this time –he told himself. Sir Carey was not going to win this round.

Sensing his master's distress the horse increased its speed, running like a stallion out of hell. It took two seconds for the match to end and the victor was declared.

"Sir Edward Seymour!" The herald cried.

The Boleyns sitting in the box, next to the Princess Mary and her royal siblings, blanched. They were very close and when one of their own fell, they all felt the fall.

Just so, Anne turned to her sister whose mouth was hanging open. She cried her husband's name and looked away as he was carried back to his tent where the King sent his physician to tend his wounds.

"That is enough." Anne hissed in her sister's ear. "You are making a fool of yourself and a fool out of George too. What will they think of us?"

But there wasn't much that Mary could say or do that would change the royals' opinion of them, especially the older women who were working too hard not to laugh at the distraught woman.

"You must congratulate him." Elizabeth of York, said to her granddaughter placing a hand on her shoulder to encourage her. Mary did not want to. Why did she, the youngest, always had to be the one to congratulate these nobodies? She rolled her eyes and nodded, forcing herself not to shout at the fiend who had attacked her betrothed's brother-in-law.

Aware that her great-grandmothers, the pair of old crows as George called them, were looking, waiting for her to do something that would convince her mother and father that George was a bad influence on him, she rose and waited patiently for the victor to come forward.

"Your Highness-"

"I congratulate you on your victor Sir Edward." Do not let it get to your head. "Your skill and ruthlessness clearly show."

"Mary." George hissed, but he was stopped by his sister's glare that told him to be quiet.

"My lady does me much honor but no honor is greater than the one bestowed upon me by Your Highness with her favors." He showed her the blue and red ribbons at the tip of her lance, hoping that would get some reaction from her but he received none.

He gave his lance to his squire then took off his helmet, in that instant both were struck by lightning. They had not realized how much they had changed. Edward had only seen her once before he went back to the country to stay with his wife in the last moments before her death. She had died giving birth to their second child. A daughter, not the son they hoped for but a useless, living daughter. _At least she is healthy_, she said hiding her disappointment behind a smile as she greeted the new member of their family.  
She died weeks later and was buried in the Abbey as her father wished.

Edward blinked twice to make sure he wasn't seeing mirages when his eyes shifted from the former Queen Dowager to the Princess of Kent. They could be twins. The Princess had inherited her Plantagenet ancestors red-gold mane but her face, the shape of her eyes, her mouth, her skin, were entirely Wydeville.

"Y-Your Highness glows." He said in a whisper. It was barely heard except for the two platonic lovers who were still stuck by each other's appearance.

She had not seen him for two years. The last time she had seen him, he had barely made himself present. He was always with her godfather, Cardinal Wolsey or with Bishop Gardiner or the other Bishops who had been anxious as of late since they had discovered many of the prominent scholars and heads in the English colleges associated with heretical groups –Lutherans, Lollards, Hussites, among others.

He had not talked much except to greet her; even then his smile was a mocking one.

"Sir Edward …" she nearly gasped as she followed his gaze down to her bosom and further down, undressing her. "you … you flatter me. Congratulations on your victory; we are pleased with your father's work and we expect great things of you as well." _Do not disappoint us –_was her real message.

It took him only two seconds to shift his glance to the King and Queen who sat at the top box. The Queen descended and gave her congratulations, her husband then followed.

Edward struggled to hold his head up high and shift his eyes away from the Princess. He did not want to and he saw she was also having a hard time looking away.

I am not going to disappear this time. He thought as he saw with growing resentment, George Boleyn, cup her chin and turn her head in his direction. _I am not_, he vowed and with this vow he finally willed himself away and returned to his tent.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, The Book of Margery Kempe by Margery Kempe, Henry VIII and Court and Six Wives of Henry VIII by Alison Weir, Downton Abbey, and GOT.**


	17. Chapter 16

Just at dawn, he woke with a start, listening but whatever sound had dragged him from his delightful dreams –if it had been a sound- was gone. He lay, thinking about those dreams, acknowledging with pain that Elizabeth was not bound to him but to the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso d'Este. He descended from one of the popes, Alexander Borgia while the Howards were considered upstarts by their haughty enemies who were nothing more than a speck of dirt on England's noble Court. He gazed at Edward Seymour and chuckled. Two years ago, his father had begged –literally dropped to his knees and begged- to have the King force his hand on the Duke of Norfolk, his Uncle, Sir Edward Howard, *****to marry his sister to the Ambassador's younger son. The King had laughed right in his face. In reality, he learned from his father, it had been his wife who always making her dislike for Sir John apparent –regarding him as a lecher, a sinner, and God knows what else- told him they would do no such thing and this was a family matter and a quarrel he had to settle with the Duke. This did not involve them.

His Uncle had only been too pleased when he heard and –like the Queen- burst in laughter when Sir John came with the proposal. Not for all the ducats and gold in the world, he exclaimed, would he wed his daughter to an upstart who was little more than a cheap imitation of gold. He would not stain his family's noble line –he said- with the blood of commoners.

The Howards of course were commoners. Aristocrats, hardly. They descended from the first Edward, but that was as far as their royal line went. The Seymours in contrast descended from the third Edward –through their Wentworth relations. Yet, unlike the Howard they did not possess noble breeding. They were country urchins and with God's grace, Henry hoped they would continue to be country urchins.

He grinned as he saw Sir Edward Seymour staring at the Princess of Kent. The star-crossed and platonic lovers seemed to stare at each other forever, until Sir George Boleyn –newly invested Viscount of Rochford- whispered in her ear and broke the spell.

Uppity –he thought, remembering how he heard from one of the servants, how his master had raged and thrown everything against the wall when he heard the marriage contract between the Princess and Viscount of Rochford had been drafted and signed. It went against his character. He was a callous –and some even said- callous man. Yet he had been struck by Cupid's arrow and there could be no denying, any blind man could see it. The Seymour knight was round for her.

And as a bitch in heat, it won't be long before she succumbs to the bronze wolf –he thought.

He shook his head. He could not be thinking of the uppity Seymour's problems. He had problems of his own. He had had his eyes on the Princess Elizabeth for quite some time, and there was not a day they did not spend in each other's bed, talking about politics, philosophy, poetry –their favorite subject. She aspired to be married for love and he aspired to be married to someone who would make him happy and filthy rich. Such things could not be better, she had said and the following day after he declared his love for her she proposed to him. "Marry me." She said kissing her lips wildly, undressing him as she pushed him into the bed, consummating their love at last. Here I come –he'd thought. But then he stopped before he could succumb.  
No. With her it will be different. He vowed.

His Uncle had taken the title that had belonged to his older brother, his father. He warned him against falling for royalty. He reminded him his father had fallen for royalty and her death had left him bitter and resentful. His marriage with the Princess of York, Anne Plantagenet had been arranged but they came to love each other and when she died he was devastated. His marriage with his mother was loveless and purely out of interest. He knew. His Uncle knew, everyone knew.

Henry told his Uncle he was not going to do the same mistakes. He was a Howards and Howards never finished second. His cousin was betrothed to the Princess Mary. He had been raised to Viscount of Rochford and he was sure the King would shower him with more honors before his wedding to make sure his daughter would be marrying well.

If he could somehow influence George to influence his wife once they were married, and speak for them before their father, than he and Elizabeth would have nothing to worry about.

But things were seldom that easy. Henry was envious. George was only a Howard through his Aunt. He did not possess the same pedigree his parents did. For God's sake, his father descended from merchants and upstart Irish nobility! His parents both descended from royalty.

It was not fair.

No. No more waiting for fortune's favors. He was going to take matters into his own hands and wed her. Once wedded, her parents would have to accept their marriage. It was not like he was Anne Stanhopeless –as the bad tongues called her- anyway. He was of finer stock and he would provide the Tudor dynasty with more male heirs and daughters to use for foreign alliances.

Yes, everything would be all right.

Settling down on his chair, after the feast was over and he had been dismissed from His Majesty's service; he set out to write a letter explaining the whole situation in great detail to the King, including his reason for marrying his fourth daughter, Elizabeth.

When Henry looked up from sealing the letter, he found his cousin George, his eyes bearing down on him. "Sometimes," he said with a smile, "I think I am fool for coming here and heeding my sister's warning for talking you out of this marriage but I think she is a greater fool for thinking I could ever convince you." He took the sealed letter from his cousin's hands. "What do you think Harry, that you and her can live a fairy tale life, that her father will let you live happily ever after? It doesn't work that way."

"Why not? He let you."

"After many years of service. My mother has become the Queen's confidante and my sister has wedded the future Duke of Northumberland. It's not the same."

"Your mother is a Howard and she only holds the Queen's ear because she took pity on her and on you. This marriage is not because she likes you. Queen Katherine is afraid her favorite daughter will leave her so she marries her to the first courtier she can find and the only courtier she trusts because his mother has worked years in her service is you. It's no coincidence. She picked you out of necessity. Do not delude yourself cousin, the Queen doesn't like you anymore than you like her."

"I am loyal to Her Majesty."

"Do not delude yourself George, you are not. You are loyal to yourself and to your family. You want as much advantage as you can get from this marriage as I."

"That's not true. I love her." He said but Harry shook his head.

"You and I are not meant to love." He responded, "We are the creatures of the underworld, the scourge of traitors, spurn from webs of ambition and careful plotting. You know I will never amount to anything as long as my Uncle and his heirs live. There is nothing left for me except a few mansions and living the rest of my life in obscurity. Is that the life you want for me George? Is that the life your want for me … cousin?" He asked, appealing to his conscience by using the title that would remind him of his blood ties.

Reason was well on his side but George could not betray his family and his own ambitions for taking pity on his younger cousin. "You could have any other woman in the world." Said George, "I can talk to Anne or my mother, she can talk to the Queen and arrange for you a fine marriage-"

"No!" Henry interrupted. "Don't you see? I do not want a finer marriage, I do not want an ugly aristocrat, an ugly heiress to whom I will be forced to share my bed and look the opposite way every time I wake up. I want someone I can worship, someone I can cherish. Someone who is my equal George. I want something like you have with the Princess Mary. I want my own Princess."

"First let me ask you-"

"Not the guessing games."

"Do you love the Princess Elizabeth?" Asked George, "And please answer because it is important I know before I decide to help you."

"Does that matter?"

"Please answer." Insisted George, beads of sweat trickling from his forehead. You would think he was the interrogated and Henry the interrogator. He needed to know now, once and for all before he did something that he regretted for the rest of his life and put his future marriage and his happiness with Mary in jeopardy.

It took five minutes for Henry Howard to answer. The son of the infamous Duke of Norfolk and Earl of Surrey struggled with himself as he quarreled with his own conscience. Did he love her? And if he did, did that matter if by the end of the day the only true value marriage had was dowry, wealth, and position?

He found the answer in the back of his mind as he remembered the first time he and the Princess had met.

He raised his eyes to his cousin, and he nodded. George kept staring at him. "Yes … yes I do George, I love her." As soon as the words escaped his cousin's lips, George tucked the letter inside his doublet and spun around heading to the door. "Where are you going? George! The letter, no one can see it-"

"Relax cousin, I am not going to let anyone see it until after the wedding." Henry sighed in relief. "But you must promise you will wait. No more escapades, no more poems, no more exchanges." Henry nodded his head eagerly. "Until me and Mary are married, you will do nothing to compromise your honor or hers, you understand? I can't help you if I you engage in improper relations before we are married."

Henry chuckled. "We are all adults here George, there is no need to be so formal."

"I mean it Henry." George hissed, "The King will have both our heads." He warned but Henry only continued laughing. He sighed. "Look, just try to avoid her as much as you can. If she seeks you out or you seek her out, let me be your carrier, Mary can be her carrier and she can give me her letters and in turn I will give them to you. Is that agreeable with you?"

No. But what other choice did he have? He voiced his thoughts: "I suppose I have no other choice?"

"No , you don't. But it's either this or nothing." George said plainly.

"Fine then," He said dejectedly, "But I will hold you to your promise as well George."

"You do not have to worry cousin, unlike our family I don't turn my back on my promises."

Henry smiled in satisfaction. "You are fool then." But I am a greater one, he thought, for what he was about to say, "But God be damned I trust you."

"No more letters then, no more secret nights, no more run-ins-"

"No more drinking, no more wenching, yes, yes, yes I get the picture George."

George smiled in satisfaction and sat next to his cousin. "It's funny," He said, "I always thought it would be you who landed the big marriage. I guess I was partly right. Marrying the Princess Elizabeth will take you one step closer to the throne."

"You think so?" Henry asked grinning as he thought of the endless possibilities.

"No, but it was fun seeing that look on your face."

Henry slapped his back in response. "What is it about royal women that makes us Howard fall so hard for them? They are no different than any English rose."

George shrugged. "I don't know." He said. He had been asking that same question himself. "Perhaps it is the fact that we are Howards and Howards-"

"Never finish second, I know." Henry said in high frustration. "Good God, our parents have been feeding that phrase to us since the cradle. How long has it been since they were executed following their motto? What is so great about being a Howard anyway? I only see it as a means to an end."

"No, I don't think so. Our family is certainly special, we descend from the first Edward and our family is one of the noblest and oldest houses in England. No other family can compare to that. Besides, as you pointed out, ambition is in our blood, it's who we are and it's high time we recuperate from our parent' losses."

"You really want to help me." It was not a question yet George could see the puzzle in his younger cousin's eyes. _Why?_

"I guess like you, I know what it's like living off noble charity."

They smiled at each other, the first sincere smile they exchanged since their fathers were executed and they were both separated and sent off to live in separate household. George with the Prince and his cousin with their Uncle who had been given his father's dukedom upon showing his prowess in the Battle of the Spurs.

They exchanged a few words before they left. Henry was convinced if there was anyone who could help him it was George, it was always easy to get him to do things and he was marrying the King's favorite daughter. She would convince her father that marrying him was Elizabeth's best option. He knew it, he had seen it before, the King denied nothing to her.

* * *

Edmund visited his older nephew and now niece. Eleanor was pleased to see Anna had coped with her new responsibilities. The first time she had seen the girl, she looked so shy, so meek. She reminded her of her namesake, Mary's youngest daughter, Eleanor, who was always so pleasant but so shy around strangers.

As Princess of Wales, she would have to get used to her new surroundings and the many petitioners in her husband's court. She thought that her nephew was too young to handle these sort of affairs but his father had also been young when he had been named head of the Welsh government.

Anna showed them around. Many things had changed in the old Welsh fortress. It did not feel like a fortress anymore, it felt like a home. Like Hampton there was a chimney for each chamber.

"Make yourselves comfortable." He said taking off his hat. "I hope the ride here didn't tax you."

"Not at all, Your Highness." She said, formal as always. Part of her clung to the old traditions. She didn't like the way the court was becoming, youths were more informal and women practically threw themselves at men's feet. It was disgusting, yet she did not mind the new fashions that had replaced her sister-in-law and Aunt's old dour ones.

She had began wearing the French hood more and more and the young ladies, new at court who hardly knew what the Queen wore or liked (because they were too busy looking for a man to warm their marriage beds or a husband), copied hers. It helped that Lady Northumberland promoted this change. She was amongst the most popular of Katherine's ladies and everything she wore, the ladies wore.

Anna, their present Princess of Wales, seemed to be the only one who hadn't gotten up to date.

There was something about this Princess, her shy demeanor, her meekness that had made her so special to Arthur. Could it be Arthur liked this women submissive? No, she knew her nephew. He was like her Aunt in every way, he liked a challenge, he loved to be heard and he loved to be challenged. He had married this girl to please his father. Because the Cardinal's Secretary who was rising high in the ranks and now had most of the royal men's ears (including her husband) had said so. Because an alliance with Cleves would be the ultimate affront to all the major European kingdoms, and show them they were not the only ones England could make pacts with.

Besides, their last *****German Queen had brought England many children, most of them who lived to adulthood and founded the great house of York and Lancaster. Surely, everyone thought, this girl would do the same.

"I love what you have done with the palace, Your Highness, it is grander than the last time we came here. I imagine this was all your idea." Eleanor said, smiling sweetly at Anna.

Anna nodded. "Yes, I asked my husband for his permission before I could start the renovations, we have also increased the west wing and fortified the back if you wish to see later today. I can give you a tour."

"No, I think we are very tired but we would welcome one tomorrow if it isn't too much to ask, Your Highness." Edmund said, not waiting to sit down, he did. His feet were killing him. His wife had travelled by carriage while he had gone riding on his favorite stallion since he hated the thought of sitting down listening to his wife and their daughters complain about everything for the entire ride.

"Of course not. Call me Anna. We are all family here, after all."

How ironic. Eleanor had heard the same thing being whispered by another young girl. It seemed so long ago.

Arthur led his Uncle to his stables where his stallion was being tended and he showed him all his new horses. "They are magnificent."

"Aye, and one of them is yours."

"Which one? I think your Aunt would kill me if I fill our homestead with one more."

"Nonsense Uncle, you have plenty of space, and you recently received one of the former Abbeys that Wolsey closed down, did you not?"

"Aye, your mother had a hand in it though. She was very disgusted after she heard the Abbess had been leading a double life, conning her tenants and married twice in spite of her holy vows."

"How do these people sleep at night? Don't they know it's a sin? Once you've taken a vow before God, you cannot break it."

"Dear nephew sometimes I wonder if you are really my nephew."

"Thanks Uncle."

Edmund chuckled and ruffled his nephew's hair. "It seems like yesterday me and your Uncle Edward were taking you to the finest brothels in London, now you are a finer gentleman. I suppose you have no time for merriment."

"Aye, that you are right. I do take my vows seriously, but what I did before the marriage bed I suppose it's excusable. Even David was allowed liberty with his concubines before his head wife tamed him."

"Be sure not to let this one dominate you. Behind that smile there is the daughter of the Duke of Cleves and remember her parents are no fools and neither is she. Master Holbein reported that her brother told him she was most interest in men's affairs –politics."

"Politics?" Arthur shook his head. "Anna has no love for politics. For her, her place is in my bed, in the home with our offspring-"

"Offspring? You already …" Arthur gave him a sardonic smile. "You sly devil! Why haven't you told me? Why haven't you told your parents? They will be thrilled."

"I meant to. I just didn't know how to tell them and besides Anna is very practical about these things, she doesn't want anyone to know until she is certain she can carry the baby to term."

"Carry the baby to term? If that is how you two speak I do not envy your marriage."

"We are very realistic Uncle, children die all the time and I am not blind that Anna could die too if she's not well-cared for."

"Arthur, your wife is a healthy young woman; you have nothing to be afraid of. Look, why don't you and Anna come with me for your sister's wedding? I know you said you were busy with petitions but I am sure they can wait for your sister. It is her wedding and she expects you to be there."

"I know, but I cannot. There is the harvest to expect this winter and I honestly swear I don't know how I will handle all these petitions and the people come every day complaining about their masters, the Church, and what not raising rents."

"So raise taxes on them."

"Are you insane? That would only make things worse."

"I do not mean them, I mean the rich, sure they plead poverty and injustice but those are the two songs that rich men always sing."

"That's brilliant but I am afraid I cannot. Even a Prince of Wales knows his limitations." Arthur said. "Tell Mary that I will pray for her and wish her happiness." He said after they'd gone back inside. Anna was with his Aunt Eleanor and her oldest children showing them their new presents. He had told Anna not to get them anything but she had insisted and he had used the money from her own purse to buy them.

"This is for you and this I think should be for you." Anna said showing the youngest a French hood that had been brought before Anna. All presents of her eldest sister, Princess Isabella, yet Anna said she had no use for them as she thought the fashions too vain for her taste.

"Madame it's wonderful, I mean Anna. Are you certain we can have them? They were meant for you and Bella-"

"Let her have it my lady Aunt, besides it suits your daughter's pretty head more than me." She poked Lady Philippa's nose. The little girl giggled and showed off her new headdress to her father who sat next to his wife. "Look at me, I, Princess." She said holding her chin out proudly like her mother taught her.

"That you are." Edmund said kissing his daughter's forehead. He thanked Anna for the presents. She said it was nothing.

Arthur looked at his wife, a smile graced his features but it was short-lived as his secretary came in and said that the Council requested his presence immediately. He left his wife, Aunt and Uncle and headed to his study. As usual, there were his tutors, Doctor Butts, and a handful of other gentlemen he had carefully selected to be on his council. He put the bar across the doors and closed all the windows, taking every precaution.

He was telling the truth when he told his Uncle he could not live Wales because on business, but he didn't tell him what sort of business.

* * *

Ned turned his head to the Princess of Kent. Her eyes were still glued to her husband. Four and ten but she certainly knew more about marriage than he bet any of her sisters who were still unmarried did. George Boleyn will have to think his great-grandmothers in law for that, thought Ned, forcing his eyes away from the scene.

Jane, noticing her brother's distressful look asked the Princess to be excused then stepped down and sat next to him, telling him that the Princess had looked on him as well. "So did Lady Derby and Lady Wydeville, Her Highness' relations."

But Ned laughed it off saying she had to be mistaken. If the latter looked on him was because that old crone was lusting after him. Poor woman, Ned could not help but feel some sympathy towards the old crone. She had been a Queen once. If she had had her way, this would be her court and her son would be on the throne and she would still be respected and her will upheld by everyone.

He could not help but follow his sister's gaze after she kept insisted and saw that indeed the Princess was looking down. But not on him –he told Jane. She was looking down on her sister, Princess Elizabeth who was dancing with Sir Henry Howard.

Like her namesakes, she had been careful not to outshine her sister. She was dressed simply (as simple as it was for these people). Her hair in a pale snood with a pink French hood embroidered with pearls and rubies that matched the color of her dress. Her Aunt, also named Elizabeth, exchanged partners as the music changed, and she was no dancing with his brother.

The music ended, he came to sit next to his brother and slapped the back of his back, expecting a smile from Ned but he received none.

My sister is often wrong about many things, Ned thought staring down at his plate. Trying to put the Princess out of his mind but it was impossible when his sister kept reminding him ever two seconds and Thomas was not making things easier.

"She is looking at you now, see?" But he didn't look this time.

"She most certainly is not Jane. If anyone is looking it's her husband, telling me to keep my distance from his royal midget." He responded.

Jane laughed. "George Boleyn? He does not have a clue. And even if he did, he would not dare. You are stronger and bigger than him."

"And do not forget more dashing, just look at all the women winking at him." Thomas pointed out, winking back at some of the women who turned their head away shyly, their cheeks turning a burning red.

"Her husband has just been named a member of the Privy Council and do not forget he will shortly become Ambassador to the Empire." He said. And to top that off, he thought to himself, the King has mae him a bloody Duke!

"He's not her husband yet." Thomas said. "A marriage is not a marriage until it has been consummated." Ned stared at him, Jane giggled. "What? I am just saying."

"Well don't, you do not need to make things worse for our poor brother."

"It is your fault Jane, you began this with your observation of Her Highness looking down on our poor prudish brother." Thomas said and rubbed his other shoulder. "Cheer up Ned, you always have your dreams, nobody can bother you there."

"Thomas, I don't know why father asked me to bring you here but I can guarantee it was not to help me with my love problems."

"Dearest Ned you wound me, I was merely trying to bring aid to your wounded heart."

"Well do not. My heart does not need your sorrow, or your pity, or your help."

"No, I guess not. It's a rock. If I were to punch it, all the bones in my hand would break. Pity," Thomas said, pouring more wine into his cup. "You are the most eligible bachelor since the King knighted you and named you *****governor and steward of Henstridge and Charlton. There is not a woman who is not dying to warm your bed yet you aspire for the impossible –as always." Thomas finished with a low chuckle.

Ned turned away and seeing the royal midget enjoying the banquet in her honor and George giving her a quick kiss, turned his stomach upside down. "Excuse me." He said and left the table with their siblings staring at each other, smiling in amusement.

* * *

**Author's Note: My Lady of Cleves by Margaret Campbell Barnes, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, and Henry VIII and his Court by Alison Weir.**

**I changed the age of Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey aka Sir Henry in this. He was born in 1511 instead of 1516.**


	18. Chapter 17

Somewhat earlier than usual, Anna awoke with a start. She guessed this is how it must feel to wake up before your husband returns from his midnight stay. Covering for Harry again. She dismissed the thought right away as soon as he entered.

She had heard his footsteps across the hall as he walked his younger brother to his chambers.

"Thank you, big brother. That Bessie Blount, God's blood we sure dazzled her with honors."

"You mean you dazzled her with honors. I had to stand outside you cabin, I nearly caught myself a fever."

"That is not all you caught, that maid of hers Rosie. She was eying you Arthur. She wanted to go al he way down here." Anna could hear Harry slap his back and both brothers' laughter.

Arthur's was discrete, low, Henry's was loud, vulgar.

"Sweetheart." He said when he entered, finding her still asleep.

"My lord, I didn't hear you come in." She said, feigning a second yawn as her brother-in-law came in. "Harry, look at you, covered in sweat and mud. You are a mess. Did Arthur take you riding again?"

"He certainly did. We found some" he cleared his throat, "mares on the road, gave us a run for ou money."

Arthur shared a laugh with him but seeing the look in Anna's eyes he shot his brother a glare.

"Well, I will leave you two love-birds alone. He should get some sleep, your husband here has had a rough night making sure I did not go wild chasing her all night. We had quite a night, did we not brother?"

"Yes, I hope you do not run off again, I can' keep watching the roads for you." Arthur said as he walked his brother to the door. He turned to his wife. "I am sorry, Henry did not mean-"

"I know he did not but we can't continue to support him like this." She said. "You can't keep covering for his tracks."

"He is my brother."

"It's beyond your responsibilities and moral obligations both as Prince of Wales and as his brother." She took his hand. "You have to let him do his own mistakes, take his own route and live through the consequences if he has to just like any other person. Just because he is you brother and second in line, doesn't mean we're bound by oath to protect him.'

"I know but," he sat next to her. "We have always been together, unlike the rest of my siblings, Henry, Isabella, and me, grew up together. It's hard to understand."

"No it's not. Me and my sisters we were always together but …" he paused raising her eyes to him to give him a timid smile. "…we were never together. Our father kept us apart whenever he could. When we were at functions our faces would be covered, such was the tradition."

His or yours? Anna knew what he was wondering by his expression alone. She responded: "He believed a daughter's main function was to obey. 'Women' he said 'obey, men lead'. We were a distraction he said and he was a very zealous man; he did not want any man looking at us because he feared that would lead to attraction and chaos. 'We cannot have unwanted liaisons. As long as I am Duke everyone will behave'."

"That must not have stopped you or your sisters."

She shook her head. "No. We would take the veil from our faces every once in a while after mass and glance at father's mischievous courtiers."

"I am starting to fee pity for your father but I cannot imagine you disobeying him for one bit."

"Why? Because I am shy?" She countered.

"That is not what I meant to say."

"What did you mean to say then?" She took his other hand and moved closer. "Just because I am quiet does not mean that I never disobeyed my father. I am sure there were many times you did and by the look on your face you still do." Arthur chuckled looking away embarrassed. She withdrew her hand and cupped his chin, turning his face towards her. "I know what kind of books you read and that you are not really upset of not attending your sister's wedding because you sent our gifts to George Boleyn's chaplain instead of his sister as you said you would."

"What does that matter to you? Thomas Cranmer is a good man and you approved of him last time we were in Hampton."

"I did." She answered. "But I find it rather curious that you send our gifts to him." He didn't answer.

"I also find it rather curious," she continued, "that you gave him your support when father asked you who would you nominate in the case something (God forbid) should happen to Warham."

"What are you trying to get at Anna?" He said quietly but she could hear the annoyance in his tone as his dark grey eyes bore against her chocolate brown ones. They were a perfect contrast to each other. He with his golden mane and dark grey eyes, fair complexion and she with her light brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and rosy complexion.

It didn't bother her, his annoyance only made her smile more as she looked down then up, smiling shyly. "I do not know much about theology except what I have been taught. I know very little about the soul, the cross, and penitence, much less about the difference between the old faith and the new but I do know some things regarding true faith and worship. I see you every day. You do more pilgrimages than every man in England and you give more money to decorate the altars of the Church than your own mother."

"It is my duty as future King."

"It is also your duty to maintain the peace and you do it so well." She said, half-sarcastic.

Arthur smirked. "And how would my lady of Cleves know that when she says she knows nothing about old and true faith?"

"Because I've asked Doctor Butts and Cromwell when Wolsey sends him to visit us, about the Churches you frequent and they all happen to be very poor, decayed but very honest in their worship and their preaching about giving to the poor. They also happen to be the foundations of many hospital; hospitals that the Church has never approve because they have never contributed to the Bishops' income or to fatten the belly of the fat Bishops in Rome."

"I have also contributed to the resting place of Thomas Beckett in Canterbury Cathedral and I can bet you most of that money has certainly gone to pay Warham's physician and fatten up his belly."

"Yes but you did that because you had to, not because you wished for it. And I come to my earlier point, the Archbishopric of Canterbury will be open to any prominent bishop or priest of the Church, so naturally you gave a great part of your money to the Cathedra so you could have a say in who will be the next Archbishop."

Arthur chuckled. Damn, he thought. He had been truly a fool. He had not given her enough credit. Always thinking she was little more than a practical housewife, he had never consulted her for anything that was of a political nature, but his Uncle had been right, she was incredibly observant and highly political. Perhaps he could use her.

"And about my other activities? What would you say if I told you about them, what I read and what I wish for this realm once I am King?"

"You need not to tell me. That is a business between yourself and your councilors. I was merely curious; although if truth be told with all of what you are doing, who could suspect your true intentions."

"My intentions are to reform, not to destroy."

"Of course." Anna said with a small smile. "Shall we go down to break our fast?" She asked suddenly changing subjects.

"Yes, I will go so you can get changed. I will be waiting with Henry and Bella in the parlor." He rose and gave her one kiss on her brow then left.

It amazed her how observant his wife was, and how intelligent she was despite her poor education. She was not a scholar and much less a learned woman like the rest of the women in his family but she was practical and highly political. More, he considered, than his own mother and she learned at a fast level.

* * *

Mary woke up from their marital bed. She could not believe she was married. _Her_, before all her sisters! She had to thank God, even if her husband did not believe in Him as she did. If He had not made her the youngest of her father's brood then none of this would have happened.

It was all part of God's plan.

George admired her faith more than anyone but he could not understand it. He had his own ideas, ideas he usually kept from her but she suspected where his sympathies lay and as long as they did not engage in discussions of a theological nature, everything would be fine between them.

Mary smiled at her husband, joining hands with him.

"What are you smiling at?" George asked, knowing the answer.

"You… us." George shared her smile. "I still cannot fathom it, I never thought this day would come and now that it is here I feel like the most fortunate woman in England."

"You are not, you are the most fortunate woman in the world and the most beautiful. It is me who should feel fortunate."

"You don't?" Asked Mary, her brow creased with worry.

"I do. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy." George said, not fully convinced of his lie yet he smiled nonetheless.

She leaned forward and locked their lips in a kiss.

* * *

"Wine." Elizabeth demanded.

They filled her goblet with wine as she asked for. "More." She said, it sounded almost like a plea.

Her servants did not deny her.

She lost track of time and fell victim to sleep. When she woke up she found her grandmother, Lady Wydeville staring down at her. She almost jumped in fright.

"Bess dear, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"No … I am fine my lady, I just-"

She was interrupted by her grandmother's laughter. "You do not have to explain anything to me dear but as your grandmother I have been very worried. You haven't been to royal function and you are rarely seen anymore. Tell me, what is the matter? You know you can trust me with anything. I can keep your little secret."

Something in the older woman's pale blue eyes told her she already knew. Bess spoke. "It is nothing important, the weather has affected me, that is all."

The older Elizabeth gave a sardonic smile. _Ah, fair youth_. What would she give to be young and stupid. "You are lying." She said bluntly. "You do not want marry this John Frederick, you consider him fat and ugly but I will tell you this now: It's better to have a fat and ugly one by your bed than a sweet and charming one."

"I do not want to marry him." She suddenly said.

Her grandmother chortled. "Bess darling, it's not a matter of want or will not. You are a Princess, your opinion on this doesn't matter." Anymore than mine was, she thought with a wry grin. "You will marry him whether you wish it or not."

"I do not wish it!" Bess insisted. She rose and walked to the window staring at her nieces and nephews chasing each other across the maze. Their smiles clenched her anger; she turned to her namesake and repeated: "I will not marry him."

Her arms crossed against her chest and with a determined expression on her face, she walked to her grandmother, and repeated more firmly. "I will not marry him and that is final." She said lastly, her dark grey eyes bearing into her pale blue. "Besides," she added hastily as her grandmother rose. "he would not want me anyway. I am thirty and past the age of childbearing."

Elizabeth laughed coldly, she raised her hand to her granddaughter's face and rubbed her thumb against her cheek. "Do not delude yourself darling; there is not any man who doesn't wish for your hand in marriage."

"Here, perhaps, but not abroad. I am too old."

"You are too stubborn. I should not be telling you this but I suppose I must if it's the only way I can make you see reason into that little head of yours." Bess glared at her but Elizabeth ignored her. "When the Emperor came he asked for your hand in marriage but your brother refused because he believed it would be more profitable and because deep down against Katherine's wishes, he wanted to see his daughter Empress, and you Queen of Portugal."

"He never told me." Bess said.

She shook her head. "No, I do not believe you-"

"Arthur wanted all his sisters to be Queens of Europe so he could have the Western Hemisphere in the palm of his hand, just as his father always dreamed of. Too bad for him he did not factor you being older and younger at the time than little Mary, and far more attractive."

Bess looked down.

"Do not be ashamed. The Emperor is a collector for beautiful things. Look how he was so eager to wed Isabella without waiting for her brother to deliver the other half of her dowry. It is in his nature. His father was just the same way."

"It still does not give Arthur any reason to interfere with my life. If he thinks this marriage is some sort of consolation prize, that he can make this up for the time he rejected Charles-"

"He did not reject Charles. Not without influence." Elizabeth interrupted.

Bess looked up, her eyes narrowed. "You?"

"No, not me but close. Your other grandmother, Lady Derby."

"Grandmother Margaret … But why?"

"She believed you were ill suited to be an Empress, that you couldn't handle the responsibilities and she was right. Seeing you whining here and moaning how you can't go, how you don't want to go-"

"That's different. I am going far away to a place I have never been and might never return. I know nothing of Germany or Saxony or wherever the hell you're sending me!" She seethed. "You had no right doing this."

"Elizabeth!" Her grandmother called as she headed to the door. "Just remember dear what happens to the people that defy your brother. You do not want to end up an old maid, in that you are right. You are getting old."

Bess shook her head vigorously turning her tear-stricken face away and closing the doors behind her.

"Silly girl." Margaret said when Elizabeth went to see her and told her all that had transpired.

"She still has her head stuck in the clouds. It does not surprise me when she is your granddaughter and named after you." Margaret said, keeping her gaze down at her prayer book.

"You are right. She is named after me but she is more your granddaughter. Did you not complain too when your caretaker asked you to marry his son?" She queried.

"I was not asked. Women no matter what their standing are never consulted about their choice of husband. Such a thing is unthinkable." Margaret said, with her focus still on her reading. She turned one of the pages and began reading faster.

"She insists she will not marry this man, she says that she is too old," Elizabeth explained then hesitantly added, "She says she will speak to her husband-"

Margaret finally put her book down, slapping the cover hard on the table between them and rose from her chair. "She says, she says, she says, well I do not give a damn about what she says. Our grandson is King and if he wants to, he will tie her to a ship and send her to Saxony."

"Is that not a bit harsh?" Elizabeth asked, with a casual smile, calmly drinking from her golden cup. "We are all here in the spirit of reconciliation. After all, Arthur brought us here so we could reason with her."

"Arthur is a fool then and it surprises me Katherine hasn't told him. There is no reasoning with this girl. The marriage contract has already been signed and he can't go back on his word."

"Unless she were to find a Charles Brandon or George Boleyn."

At the mention of their great-granddaughter's husband, both women's lips twitched in disgust.

Margaret's usual stoicism crumbled as she considered her companion's words.

"She could do it, you know. She only needs the incentive and a Saint Nicholas and she will do it." Elizabeth said, feeding into her fears.

"It won't!" The Countess snarled. By God, she swore, she will not.

* * *

Princess Elizabeth awoke on the eve of her thirty first birthday to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings. When she asked where was she, her sister appeared with a grim expression. "Margaret what are you-"

She stopped as she felt the floor shake behind her and saw that her entire room was made of wood and heard the unfamiliar sound of the seagulls and the waves hitting against her ship.

"Where am I?"

Margaret swallowed, finding sudden interest in her feet. "Margaret, where am I?" She asked louder, unable to break her composure even in the darkest of times such as these.

"We are en route to Saxony. We will stop briefly at Cleves then continue our way."

"What? … How? Why?" How could Arthur do this to her? She knew their grandmothers were schemers and she expected something like this from them but not her brother. He had always been so caring and protective …

Margaret interrupted her thoughts, knowing what went through her mind. "It wasn't Arthur, Arthur doesn't know. Our lady grandmother will not inform him until later today before the feast in your honor."

"My honor? My honor has just been thrown away for those crones' schemes."

God damn them. She thought, squeezing her fists. There was so much anger in her yet she was unable to express it and no matter how much she complained through their entire voyage she could not.

"I am sorry." Margaret said after their second day at sea.

Elizabeth looked sideways at her oldest sister. "I suppose they did not brought you by force."

"No, I volunteered."

Elizabeth stared at her, her narrowed eyes demanding an explanation. "It happened by accident. I had left my residence to visit my daughter at the palace. It was our niece's visit as you remember and I knew my daughter would be there with her," Margaret explained, smiling as she remembered her roguish Princess, barking orders with Mistress Susan at the rest of her cousin's ladies. "Everyone was so busy getting everything ready for the ambassador of Saxony's reception when I heard loud chatter coming from one of the nearby chambers. Not one to pass down an important, I listened to the conversation."

"Margaret that is rude!" Elizabeth chastised, finally letting her anger and frustration show.

Margaret replied, rolling her tiny eyes and saying with equal frustration: "Listen, do you want to hear the rest or not?"

Reluctantly her younger sister nodded her head.

"Good then. As I was saying, I listened to the entire conversation until it became too much for me and I burst through their chambers-"

"Were they not angry?" Margaret looked at her in annoyance. "I am sorry, please continue."

"Thank you." Margaret said sighing, speaking faster by the second so her sister wouldn't interrupt her again. "As I was saying, I entered their chambers and they were too surprised. Perhaps they were more surprised than they were angry. Nothing ever escapes them, who knows? It is difficult to know what goes inside those crones' head. Regardless of how they felt I told them they had no right to do this but they said they would, with or without your consent. I knew there was only way that I could avoid you the pain and stress of what you would surely go through if you woke in unfamiliar surroundings with unfamiliar faces. I volunteered to go."

She took a letter from inside her doublet. It was her credentials, presenting her before her sister's betrothed as Ambassador to England and their guest of honor.

" 'One royal to another royal' I said."

Elizabeth was surprised that they agreed when they were known for their iron wills. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion as she saw an all familiar signature at the bottom, looking closer she gasped. "The Queen signed this?" She was shocked her sister-in-law, could be an accomplice in this scheme.

"She did not want to, except for me, she loves all the royal bunch and she knew how much it would hurt you. But …" she paused, shaking her head. "… you know Katherine, once she wears the crown she forgets all about familiar love and familiar loyalties."

She could not believe this. Betrayed by the people she loved, she did not read any further, if she had she would have noticed another name.

"Wait, there is something that doesn't make any sense. You said that you went to visit your Meg while she was in attendance to our niece in Greenwich, but that is impossible since our niece has not been there since …" she paused, "..a year."

Margaret lowered her eyelashes. "You knew for an entire year and you told me nothing?!"

"Calm down and sit down before you cause yourself an apoplexy. Yes, I knew but I never thought they would take it this far."

"Well they did!" Bess snapped. "And now I am off to marry this lord oaf and give him children who will probably take after him, fat and ugly as he." She crossed her arms against her chest. If she had any willpower, she would take the steering will and head back to England where she would demand punishment on their grandmothers for what they had done.

But she did not. She was a coward and the only one of her siblings who was too afraid to raise her voice even when angry.

Margaret grabbed her sister's hand and gave a sympathetic smile. "Cheer up Bessie. Mayhap Saxony is not so bad after all."

"No, mayhap it is not." Bess said, repeating her sister's sentence with a dejected voice.

"You know, you could have had your way if you had only accepted King Francis' proposal. He wanted you more than Catherine."

"I did not want to be married with him and go through what his late wife went through. Besides, I would have just been a trophy wife. He likes to surround himself with beautiful things." Bess said. _Just like Charles._ She thought, remembering what her grandmother had said. "All the women, his mistresses, I would not have tolerate it."

*Margaret gave a frustrated sigh. "Bess, you are the fairest Princess in England, second only to our niece. But God's nightshirt! You always had your head stuck in the clouds. I am sorry if you are angry with what I am about to say but when all of us were busy learning letters, you were busy writing poems and learning songs."

"Little good learning letters would have done me, it did not help you or Mary convince our father and brother not to send you away."

"No." Margaret agreed. "But if that is how you see it then I am sorry." She said. She rose and turned around and left.

She, Mary, and Catherine were the ones who never failed to attend their lessons, especially Catherine who was the most studious of the three. Elizabeth simply did not want to devote herself to _useless_ things that would only make her frustrated in the end. She had heard of many women who had devoted their entire youth to studying, learning letters, languages, arithmetic and like their tutor Master d'Ewes they were praised for their scholarship. This led them to believe that they were above everyone else, that they could do a difference in the world; that they would not end up the same as their peers –bound in an unwanted marriage.

How foolish, Elizabeth thought, staring down at her hands. _Her fair hands._ Suddenly the cogs on her brain began turning and she thought on what her sister said as she took a good look in the mirror.

Margaret had made a good point. She was beautiful, talented. She knew how to sing, how to dance and more of household matters than any of her siblings.

Perhaps being sent to Saxony would not be such a tragedy. The Germans loved their women beautiful, discrete, and simple and she was all of that and more.

* * *

"Mother?" Bessie, Anne's oldest child asked her mother, showing off her new headdress. "Look at me mama, Lady of Cleves give me this."

"No, no. It is the Princess of Wales gave me this." Anne corrected softly yet firmly. She adjusted her headdress and said: "When your Aunt comes remember to address her as such, Your Highness and My Lady Aunt. You know how the Queen is very special when it comes to courtly behavior."

"I know mama. I will do my best but why must I wear these dull fashions? My farthingale is too skinny." She complained.

"Well," her mother started but her daughter interrupted.

"And this headdress is not the one Mary, I mean my lady Aunt gave me last Christmas."

"I know sweetheart, but it is what the Queen shall be expecting," She said and added quickly before her daughter could interrupt: "and you do not want to make us look bad in front of the Queen, do you?"

Her daughter shook her head vigorously. "Good, now let's get those new shoes. Remember to walk very poised, your back straight, don't slouch. The Queen hates slouching, it's a trademark of vulgarity."

Her daughter listened to everything her mother said. When the Duchess and her oldest daughter arrived to Beaulieu Castle in Hampshire, she was surprised to find the entire castle bigger than what she had remembered from when she and her mother had gone to visit George after he and Mary had moved to the Castle.

*Not intimidated by her new surroundings, she took her daughter's hands and walked right in. The Queen was already there, ahead of time as was to be expected. She curtsied before Her Majesty, her daughter followed. Her gaze slowly shifted to her brother who came forward with his pregnant wife, Mary.

He had wasted no time in performing his duty. If it was a son, they would be on top of the world. He would be their ticket out of the hell-hole they had been living in since her father and Uncle were condemned as traitors.

Nobody could say the Boleyns were not fertile. Her mother had given birth more than six times, seven pregnancies, and three healthy children.

George would be fine.

"It's wonderful you came to visit. Things have not been the same since it was confirmed Mary was with child."

"Is she giving you any trouble with her mood swings?"

"No, that's the worst part. The mood swings are fine. It's Lady Derby and Lady Wydeville that are giving me trouble."

"And the Queen Dowager? Is she giving you trouble too?"

"No, none at all. Just those two." He sighed. "I do not understand what's the big problem. I married their great-granddaughter, everyone approves of me, even the Queen Dowager, why can't they?"

"George, George, George." Said Anne, "You are very smart and learned, more than any man I know but many things escape you. The ladies are jealous, do you not see? Look at them, two old crones who have never gotten their happy ending, both have been stuck in loveless marriages."

"Loveless? Their grandson became King of England and their great-grandson is King of Scotland! What could be more gratifying than that."

"You are not listening. Lady Derby was married three times, all of them for interest, her only source of happiness was her son and the same goes for Lady Wydeville."

"She married the King for love." He said silently as they walked the gardens.

Anne smirked. "Do you honestly believe she loved the man more than the title? She went after the crown, George. Her first husband was a Grey and large landowner. Nothing she did was without self-interest."

"I do not see what does that have to do with this."

"You surprise me sometimes George." She stopped her laughter when George glared at her. "If the former Queen and Lady Derby give you trouble, talk to your wife. She is their favorite as well you know. She can hurt them," Anne told him, smiling at her daughter as she came running in their direction, not far behind was the Princess Mary, smiling proudly as she rested a hand on her swollen stomach.

"Hurt them where it hurts them the most." Anne repeated. She knelt and opened her arms to her daughter the scooped her up.

"Remember what I said George, do not allow others to ruin your happiness." She said, kissing her daughter's forehead as she looked the other way, pretending not to hear. "Remind them of what you and Her Highness, Mary have."

"What are you two talking about?" Mary asked holding George's sweaty hand.

"Nothing Your Highness, George and I we were simply discussing family life. He tells me you will be expecting very soon. June you said George?"

"Yes, I did." George said, showing a smile on his face and a look that gave nothing away. "We cannot wait to be parents; surely you will not mind, Mary, to have Anne stay with us while the baby is born."

"No, of course not, it will be my pleasure." Mary said showing her enthusiasm. George led them inside as they heard the sound of thunder. His mother-in-law was there with the recently arrived, Princess Catherine.

"Mary, look how much you've grown."

"Aunt, I did not hear you come in. Mama, why did you not tell me? I would have had another room prepared for you." She said turning to her Aunt.

"All is well, do not burden yourself. I did not intend to come but when I heard all of my sisters arguing over who would be your godmother, I knew I had to come. Besides you are my favorite niece and I will be marrying soon, it might do me good to learn a thing or two about childbirth."

"You are most welcome but to be honest with you it makes me very nervous."

"Why?" Catherine asked, as her niece walked her to her chambers. *"You are the daughter of Queen Katherine and King Arthur, two of the most admired monarchs in the world and you descend from very strong people. Look at your grandmother, my mother, she gave birth seven times, only one miscarriage."

"That is what I am afraid of."

"Mary, you and George are very healthy and you are both very young. There is nothing to worry about." She said but Mary was not convinced.

*She had heard the horror stories from her lady great-grandmother and her ladies who had heard the stories of her grandfather, Henry VII, birth from their mothers who had been in attendance at the time.

"Those are just stories Mary. And she was thirteen at the time, you are fifteen and you are far healthier." Then she added. "You have the best physicians in the kingdom. They will not let anything bad come to you."

"Are you certain? You said my lady grandmother had one miscarriage." Mary pointed out.

"That only happened once and it did not do her any harm, the baby was out before it could have form. You and George are young and if anything were to happen, you just have to think this: you will have other children." Catherine rubbed her niece's shoulder and gave an encouraging smile hoping to ease her niece's worries but like everyone else, her action made little difference.

* * *

Dinner ran smoothly. Anne smartly chose to arrive before anyone else, therefore indirectly influencing the seating arrangements by placing her daughter next to where the Princess always sat.

People could say what they wanted, but Anne was always of the opinion that girls held more value than boys. Girls could be married, send elsewhere and if they were beautiful, they had more in their favor to make richer and grander marriages.

Unless you were a first son, you had nothing going for you. Second sons had to make their own way in the world or marry into the Church, something that Anne highly disapproved. Because once they entered monastic life, most of them renounced their possessions and unless they stayed ascetic forever, they would become nobodies. –Another surplus in the already overflowing priestly population.

Katherine watched her daughter's interaction with her niece, closely. There was no one more fitted for motherhood than her. Bessie acted more naturally when she was around her than when she was around her own mother. She felt she didn't have to be so prim and so proper. Mary allowed her to be herself and do whatever she wanted –granted of course that her sister-in-law approved.

Katherine turned her attention to her sister-in-law and asked how she was feeling about her upcoming marriage. "I am not sure. Everyone tells me that he is an honorable man; that I will be happy with King Francois and be one of the richest Consorts in Europe but to be honest, I am not sure I can handle all that pressure." She confessed taking a piece of chicken. Everyone was already on their second plate, eating spice cakes and other desserts, while she had barely touched her first plate. "And then there are the _other_ things."

Katherine placed her hand on top of hers, resting on her knee. "Men are fickle creatures. When my mother was forced to accept my father's infidelities it was because she came to an inevitable truth." Katherine paused. *"Husbands, she told me before I came to England, are not expected to be faithful, and wives should not expect otherwise, yet, wives should not have to put off with their husbands' scandals. If a woman is strong of will and wise, she will know how to handle the situation."

"And if she does not?" Catherine asked, a little timid.

"Then it is her fault." She said calmly, her expression still serene.

Catherine cocked her head expecting her sister-in-law to say more but when she realized she said all she had to say, she withdrew her hand and stared down at her plate.

She did not sleep that night. Every time she would close her eyes she would see herself as her grandmother often described herself when she had been Edward's Queen. Resentment, ambition, and an insatiable lust for power that bordered on addiction, written all over her face.

No! She would not end like her. Katherine could say what she wanted. She was among the few who had been blessed with a husband who both loved and worshipped her. Her brother had always been faithful, he did not even spare a glance to his wife's waiting women. He only had eyes for her.

_No _–she repeated to herself_. I will not end as dastardly and miserable as countless others._ Yet, she would not wait for the impossible.

Marriages were after all a state affair and England needed this alliance. She was a dutiful daughter of the house of Tudor and she would stay loyal to her brother and their family. She would do her duty and marry this lecher, but when the time to came to consummate their marriage, she would lay out a few rules.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Thistle and the Rose: The Sisters of Henry VIII by Hester W. Chapman, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Mistress Anne by Carolly Erickson, notes, and Six Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser, My Lady of Cleves by Margaret Campbell Barnes, inspiration from Game of Thrones and The Kennedys.**


	19. Chapter 18

Ned returned to court the following morning. He could not be more pleased. Wulf Hall was a place of misery, his mother was dressed in black and his sisters did nothing but cry with her.

"He was the noblest man a woman could ask for." His mother said before his departure, berating him for not speaking favorably of his father during his eulogy.

_Noble. _He snorted. His father had done nothing for his family. Moreover, it should be he who should be honored. He catapulted his family into their successful careers. It was him who gave the idea to push Jane into the Princess of Kent's service. At the time he believed it was a good idea, even when he had been the one to deal with the spoiled and arrogant royal midget. Not so now, he thought staring down at his feet. The royal midget had blossomed into a swan and every day he visited Hampshire, it was torture seeing her and George and their newborn so happy.

A family, he realized, that should have been his.

He never felt more miserable in his life as he thought of the happiness they shared. He had never known nothing but suffering. It was an emotion he was familiar with and he had grown to embrace it. Love however was so foreign, so alien to him that he didn't think that even if he had it in the palm of his hands he would want it.

He opened the letter his brother sent him with his dagger, though he had no need to. It was unsealed. He smirked. Typical of Thomas to be so careless.

Everyone called him the 'Ice Prince' (including his father-in-law who never liked him and blamed him for Liza's death) while everyone called Thomas the 'Fair Prince'.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Thomas wasn't fair. Sure, his skin was pale, almost translucent but his looks were far from fair. It was he who inherited the fair looks, the Wentworth golden hair, the fair skin, the almond-shaped eyes, everything.

It should be him. He folded the letter then threw it into the fireplace. *****There was one for every room in Hampton. It was an architectural beauty, built by Wolsey following the plans of the late Duke of York, Henry Tudor. It was meant for the Cardinal, now it was the King's. And with the Cardinal death, the vacancy for his seats was in high demand, especially when his sinecures brought the highest revenue.

It was also him who had introduced Thomas to royal service. His younger brother was perhaps the most ambitious of his siblings, yet his ambition was often rivaled by his lust. Thomas was incredibly reckless and his need for sexual gratification bordered on addiction.  
(Last year he had to cover up for his mess, paying the palace servant wench he had gotten with child for her silence and money to get rid of her unborn child.)

He threw his head back and gave a long tired sigh. Almost a year since he left that dreadful place…  
Tomorrow he would leave Hampton and return to Beaulieu.

* * *

He thanked God for the plague. All roads were blocked. Nobody was coming in or out. Two palace servants were found dead by their fellow servants. Everyone immediately left to Westminster, but there the situation was worse.

It was 1532; nobody wanted a repeat of the plague that took England by storm four years past.

* * *

The King received a letter from his sister, Elizabeth. Margaret was not coming home because of the plague. Arthur wrote to them that was most wise. She had stayed with Bess since her arrival to Saxony, almost a year ago.

Arthur blinked. It was beyond belief. They were all growing so fast, including his children. Mary had her own family, her own household, **married** –he still had trouble accepting that. But at least she was here, in England, where she belonged.

His older daughter on the other hand, would have to leave soon. Like their Aunt Bess, they were not getting any younger. It was imperative they married.

"What kept you?" Katherine asked; when he entered her antechamber. She was still in her court clothes. He asked her, how come.

"Do not try to get past me, my lord husband." She said with a mischievous smile. "It doesn't work like that."

"I am sorry, you know I did not try pass you Kat but I am just thinking about our children, about the girls and I just can't help it. They will be leaving soon."

"Well, it's natural. Isabella should have been married years ago and the other ones are ripe for marriage too-"

"I know, I know but," he sat down, Katherine sat next to him. "I just can't believe it's here. I thought we would …"

Katherine took the words right out of his mouth. "Grow older, together with many tots running around?" She gave a hearty chuckle and kissed his cheek. "Do not lie to yourself my lord husband, we both knew this day would come. Now we just have to be sure we chose the right country."

"Don't you mean the right husband?"

"Yes, that too." Katherine said with another chuckle and Arthur joined her.

* * *

"Are they healed?"

"Not –not quite, my lady."

"See to it that it is." Anne barked. She was practically the mistress of her brother's household. With Mary sick, she was the one giving orders and making sure she and the children were safe.

Mary had given birth again, this time to twins. Girls. George was overwhelmed but not Anne. One of them was born very sickly and since their mother had contracted the disease -shortly after one of her servants had been struck by the plague- it was very unlikely that both of them would survive.

It was high priority they be christened.

Anne Marie and Mary Isabella were baptized two days after their birth.

Anne and Princess Elizabeth stood as godmothers for the tots, with her husband as godfather.

The King and Queen were absent. The outbreak of the plague kept them confined in Bridewell with the Duke and Duchess of Somerset. All of the royal family had been moved there.

"Am I the only one here with no vision, gentlemen?" Anne demanded as the drapes were taken and replaced by ones with livelier colors.

"Yes, Anne you are the only one." George said.

"George, it's good that you are here. Here," she handed him the household accounts, "make yourself useful and check on Her Grace's expenditure. She puts her sisters' purses to shame." She said then added with a wicked grin. "It's a good thing she doesn't have her hands on the Exchequer, if she did she would leave England bankrupt."

Anne and George laughed.

His wife had been spending a lot lately, more than necessary. He told Anne that he would take care of it, but she refused saying it was her business and his business was to attend court functions and see that he was receiving the sinecures of Bethlehem Hospital where he'd been appointed governor.

"What's next? A dozen new order of ermine for Her Grace's gowns?" George asked, as he went through the account his eyebrow rose. "Anne, this is more expensive than what Mary orders and I don't think she likes that color."

"Nonsense, she chose it herself for Bess when we celebrated her birthday in Grimstone, remember?"

"Yes, I do but that was for Bess and she specifically asked for it. I don't think Mary would be happy with that color."

"Well, what would Her Grace be happy with then?" Anne demanded, not liking to be contradicted (even by her brother).

George shrugged his shoulders. He had been spending a lot of time with their son and their newborn daughters, and little time with his wife. He admitted to himself it was for fear of contracting the disease.

"I am not sure …" he said and was about to add something when Anne spoken again, her tone higher and more imperious than before.

"Then it is settled then, yellow it is. Now George, please let me do my work and kiss Bess for me on your way over to the nursery."

George nodded, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. He was still clutching the book of household accounts that Anne gave him. As he looked at it, he wondered how his wife would react to the new changes. Knowing Mary, not so good. She had a temper to match Anne's, but George was also prepared to handle this matter by displaying his natural charms. Whether or not it would work did not trouble him. Mary was a reasonable person and once she heard the logic of his arguments, she would be convinced. Of that, he had no doubt.

Displaying his Boleyn confident smirk, he put the book down and placed Bess on his knee. She had been sitting, patiently waiting –for once- for his return. Mary was the one who usually spent time with her and told her stories before her daily nap; George promised he would do his best.

After placing her in her governess' arms, he went to the two cribs where his new daughters lay. Anne Marie and Mary Isabella. Such odd names but Mary would not let the matter drop until she got her way. Anne had to get her way too, and in the end, seeing no other way to please both women, he agreed to all their suggestions naming his eldest after Anne and the French version of his wife's name –that had also been picked by Anne. And naming the second twin after Mary and her grandmother as she had intended.

Both girls were sleeping.

George saw the older one had a sickly color. She was paler than the younger twin was and she moved slower, but he suspected that was just her natural color and her natural behavior.  
There were little traces of him and Anne in them. He could not see them now but he knew their eyes were a dark grey. He kissed their golden auburn heads, just specs of hair now really but he knew they would grow into long beautiful manes like their mother's, then turned on his heel and left.

* * *

Margaret read the first lines Dunbar wrote to her after her arrival to Scotland: *****"The Thistle and the Rose, the fresh Rose, of colour red and white. So full of virtue, pleasure and delight. So full of blissful, angelic beauty, Imperial birth, honour and dignity."

"Sounds wonderful." Bess said, staring down at the crib where her twin sons lay. Nobody could say now that the Tudors were not fertile. Women were the main architects of her family's ambitions. It was a woman who had orchestrated a rebellion that gave her son the crown. It was a woman who rose higher than any other in her station to become the first (commoner) Queen of England, the first of the Yorkist Queens and allegedly –for those who still failed to recognize her brother-in-law as King- the last.

Now it was her turn. Placed by those two crones in the position of Consort; she had become very interested in her husband's policies. And this made him confide in her.

Her sweet, demure self was not so different from the other ladies of the German court. Yet she had a gentleness and sweetness that the others did not possess, and she was attentive to his needs. She showed she cared and that drew him to her.

Furthermore, John was a prude. He had a strong religious fervor that could have rivaled Katherine's, yet, he never once tried to impose his belief on others.

She turned to her sister. "What did Dunbar and Douglas say to you after you gave birth to James?"

"They put me on a pedestal, for days all I heard were Te Deums and endless nights of feasting and drinking. James wanted me to be present but I was too tired."

"But you still went. You must have enjoyed them."

"Oh I did, who wouldn't? I had done my duty, James was faithful to me for once. I was on top of the world. Then-" her voice quivered.

Bess sat next to her and placed her hand on top hers. "It's alright Maggie, I am here. It's just you and me, nobody will tell her." By her, she meant the Queen. It was no secret that Maggie still held some resentment over the Queen and blamed their sister-in-law for her husband's death.

"I could not believe it Bessie. I had been so happy, for once I was like Guinever, Nimue, Morgan Le Fey and all those characters that James loved so much. I was on top of the world, I believed that I … plain Margaret would live happily ever after." She scoffed then gave a dry laugh. "What an idiot I was."

"You weren't. I was the idiot, remember? At least James loved you. John Frederick doesn't love me, he loves the idea of me, my beauty, my talents but nothing more."

"Perhaps we are both idiots." Maggie said, suddenly chuckling over something she remembered.

"What?"

"Catherine's hair, you remember that?"

"Oh God, do I? Father wrote you an angry letter saying you were ungrateful and mean for suggesting that to us."

"But it was fun. Edward said you couldn't wait to tell the whole court how Cat's hair had suddenly turned white. Poor Cat, we were so mean to her weren't we?"

"Mean?" She chortled. "I think that's an understatement. We were terrible to her. Poor Cat she cried for days. You wrote to me father didn't let you out of your rooms and confined Edward's to our lady grandmother's apartments. I don't know who I feel more sorry for, her or Edward."

"Well, Cat certainly recovered. She was always the strongest of us and you know how she is. She held her head up high the following month and pretended nothing happened so it was never mentioned again. But Edward, poor brother, he emerged from our lady grandmother's apartments a changed man crying 'mea culpa' every time he saw father or her."

"Figures. Grandmother Margaret always had a way of bringing the worst in us."

"Or the best in us." Bess pointed out. Like you.

"She is proud of you too. She wrote a letter last month, I didn't want to give it to you because of how worried you were with your last pregnancy, but she told me to tell you how proud she was. Grandmother Liz is also proud."

"Is she?" Bess tone suddenly turned snappish. "She is the one who sent me here."

"Bess…" Margaret rolled her eyes. There was no use discussing this with her. "We have talked about this before. Look, I don't agree with her judgment but you are here and look at all you've achieved. All you will keep achieving. You have given your husband three sons, three healthy sons," she added. "The present Duke, what does he and his wife have to show? Two stillborn daughters and one sickly son. With any luck, it will be your son who will inherit the dukedom after your husband." She smiled a sardonic smile. "Not Duke Maurice's son."

"That is dangerous talk." Bess said, lowering her voice and eyes.

"Oh Bessie, still a Princess at heart but this is court and you must be smart if you want to survive. Kind-hearted girls have no place here."

"This is not the English Court." She merely said.

"No, it's a ducal court." She agreed however, she added. "But, it doesn't matter where you are, Court is Court." She smiled sweetly. "Don't give me that look Bessie. Come, show me your newborn."

She took her sister's hand and Bessie was forced to accept, half-pleased she had changed the subject, and led the former Queen of Scots to the other nursery.

"Thank goodness we are in a heretic country." Margaret said as Bessie dismissed his nurses. "There is no need for churching or other useless rituals."

She stopped laughing when she saw how serious Bessie's expression was. "Cheer up Bessie. You haven't complained about your freedoms either, you wrote to Arthur saying how much you enjoyed them. It was only after Mistress I am so right wrote back saying how you should be observant of God's laws. Poor Katherine."

"One minute you hate her then you pity her?" What was her sister on about? Bess wondered while raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I still hate her if that's what you are wondering which I can see it is. But I feel pity for her. She's been raised to know no other church but her mother's militant one. It is very sad." She repeated.

She picked up her youngest nephew and rocked him against her arms. How she missed the feeling! And the tot was so quiet, unlike his siblings who were too much like their father, too loud for their own good.

And one of them will his heir –she thought. Why can the sweet ones not be the heirs? This one reminded her so much of her son James when he was little. How he used to smile and giggle without causing a big raucous and being boisterous like his father.

A sigh escaped the former Queen of Scot's lips. How she missed him. "There you go my little chum."

"He is not going to be a handful. Have you and John thought about you are going to do with him once he becomes of age?"

Bess shrugged her shoulder. To be truthful, she never thought about it. She was just so happy to give birth to another son and she usually left these matters to his small council that she never gave it much thought.  
"I guess he could become a warrior or try his luck elsewhere. Perhaps he will inherit his father's current title."

"Oh, but I thought that would be for your second son, Heinrich."

"That was the plan but John has become very superstitious. He believes that twins will only split Saxony in two."

"Saxony will be split either way." Bess eyed her worriedly. "Come on! As you do not know." Margaret slapped her shoulder playfully.

"No, Maggie I do not."

*****"Bessie," she sighed again. "don't you remember at least one lesson from Master Skelton or d'Ewes? Come on, you must remember something. I know you didn't like history lessons but something must have stayed there-"

"I am sorry but it didn't. I didn't waste my time with history lessons as you can remember."

"Yes." Margaret said with a wry expression. _You were too busy memorizing songs and being entertained by minstrels and father's fools. _But she kept her mouth quiet.

"Let me try and refresh your memory then. Philippa of Hannuit, surely you must remember that." Bessie nodded, Margaret thanked the saints she did. "More than twelve pregnancies, less than half of them died but those who survived went to intermarry between their cousins and found different houses as we know them today as the houses of York and Lancaster. They caused the-"

"The English Civil war, yes I know."

"It was more than that, there are still many who feel the wounds of Bosworth will never heal. King Edward III only mistake was not in having too many children, it was in not selling them off to other countries."

"I thought most of them were promised in marriage." Bess said, not liking the way her sister used the word 'sell off' to refer to marriage.

She shook her head, making a sound that mirrored her annoyance at having to explain all this to her younger (and ignorant) sister. "No, not all of them. We descend from the two great houses of York and Lancaster and the only reason we do is because most of them intermarried between themselves, the end result being us. It was not very wise. So you might hate our lady grandmother, Lady Wydeville, for selling you off but our brother Arthur has a country to rule. He can't keep everyone at home. It will just create another chaos. Too much blood has already been shed to keep this family on the throne. The same will happen with your sons."

Bess' eyes widened and stared at her in shock. "No," she said. "This is not England." She kept saying but after Margaret put her youngest son back in his crib, she grabbed Bess' shoulders and stopped her shaking.

"You can convince yourself all you want but it's the same here as it is in England;" Or any other court, for that matter, she thought. "Just look at you're your husband is doing. Before he comes of age and he starts to envy his brother or the courtiers wish to use him to supplant his brother or God knows what other dirty trick, he will send the younger twin to England."

"But Heinrich's place is here."

"Heinrich's place is wherever your husband wants it to be. I am sorry to say this sister but that's the rule of the game, if you are smart you will heed my warning."

Bess stared down at her youngest son. Plump, too big for his age –the doctors were convinced that at one point they would have to cut her open to deliver him, not caring if she died or not. He was his father's exact replica.

She shifted her gaze to Bess. Could Arthur and her husband not prefer him instead? Maggie shook her head. Her brother had been very adamant in his last letter and she completely agreed with him. Heinrich would be better off anyway. If what her lady grandmother, Lady Wydeville said was true, Arthur's oldest son with (secretly) Protestant wife who shared his sympathies, would make a great monarch and together they would usher England into the new age that her father had always dreamed of.

* * *

"What shall we name this one?" Anna asked. "We have had Henrys, Arthurs, plenty of Edwards, your father's court is filled with them and also Thomas."

"Since you put it that way…" He searched his mind for the right name then it came to him. "Edward."

He burst out laughing seeing his wife's face. "I am joking! I am joking" He raised his hands in a sign of defeat.

Anna shook her head in dismay. She was still a stranger to these customs. In Cleves a person would not have dared behave this way. Her father always stressed on proper etiquette.

"We can name him Arthur I suppose." She said after careful thought.

"No, we already have two Arthurs, three if you include our oldest son whose second name is Arthur."

"Then what?" She demanded, her thick German accent showing.

He threw his hands in the air again. He was at a total loss. They could not name him Edward for she was right, there were already too many Edwards. And as for Edmund, his Uncle was already named Edmund and he did not want to cause confusion. Henry, no heavens no! There was a Henry in every family, Uncles, cousins, nephews, they did not need another one.

What then?

Just then as he looked at his wife and the sun rays came through the window, hitting her light brown head, giving the appearance of a halo. The answer came to him.

"John."

"John?"

"John William. It's the name of your father and my ancestor; and William is the name of your brother and my ancestor William the Conqueror."

"John William." She repeated. A smile graced her features. "I like it."

"Let us write to your parents then, I am sure your mother will be the most happy."

"Why do you say that?"

"Her brother was named John, wasn't he? And she also descends from John of Gaunt who is also your ancestor."

"Why, look at you, plain Anna of Cleves." He kissed her lips. "You certainly know your history."

"I know it when it concerns me." She said, then taking his hand she placed it on her stomach. His eyes widened. "Prepare to greet your next son my lord. Another Prince rides with me." She said with such confidence that it brought the greatest smile she had seen yet of him to his lips.

* * *

The letter arrived to his parents a week later. This time none of them refused the invitation. They left before the sun came up, eager to see their new grandson and heir.

Poor tot, his oldest brother was born a month in advance. He was sickly and in constant need of attention. Many believed he would not survive.

* * *

While the King and Queen celebrated in Ludlow, Ned rode to Hampshire to congratulate the couple on their behalf. He gave George a letter where the King and Queen deeply apologized for not being there but they sent the couple their many blessings and hoped for a fast recovery for their daughter. The letter also instructed George to take Ned into the nursery so he would see the children and describe them to them in his next letter.

He thought he would hate the sight of them, yet, to his great relief, the children were _nothing_ like their father. In fact, they had not one drop of Boleyn or Howard blood in them.

"Congratulations Your Grace, you have two beautiful daughters. You must be very proud." Edward said, keeping his voice neutral however his eyes said otherwise.

"You must be proud as well Sir Edward. We all heard of your elevation, your father would be very proud if he were still here. May God rest his soul."

"Thank you, Your Grace." He said, his face still expressionless. It was not until he saw _her_ that his expression suffered a dramatic change. His lips slowly curved upwards into a twisted smile. He was not able to hide the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as their gazes locked.

_You will be mine._

He could see she was still weak from her recovery.

He did not know where that thought came from but he did not try to deny it any longer. He wanted her, he needed her, he desired. His eyes fell on her ample bosom which left nothing to the imagination, yet gifted with an imaginative mind and as he kept lowering his gaze –under the veil of feign respect for her Boleyn husband- he imagined undressing her and touching every part of her beautiful body until she screamed of pleasure.

"Please send this letter to my father-in-law, the King, and tell the Queen that we are extremely honored with the appointments to both my daughters. My wife and I are extremely pleased and when she's fully recovered, we shall join them in Ludlow. Won't we sweetheart?"

"Yes. Yes, we shall." She said coming over and squeezing George's hand as if to give herself reassurance that the thoughts she was experiencing were only temporary.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Lord Beauchamp?" His sister asked breaking the tension caused by George and his Seymour rival. Both competing for the Princess' affections.

Anne was no fool, she could see it even if the Princess couldn't. This Seymour peacock was infatuated with him and like one of his many family crests, he gave himself airs of greatness. But he was nothing but upstart, a bird with many feathers who couldn't fly. All Anne needed to do was pluck those feathers and turn him into what he hated the most –a nobody.

Ned, still with his gaze lowered, turned his head slowly in Lady Northumberland's direction, and said he would be honored to.

"Then it is settled. Mistress White, please tell the servants to take Lord Beauchamp's bags upstairs and Lord Beauchamp please enjoy the comforts of your chambers. They are not much but you will find them more glamorous than any of His Majesty's palaces, I assure you."

The audacity of that woman –he thought. If she was another subject and this was another family, they would have already banished them for treason. But no, the King loved this family. The Queen was particularly fond of the Duchess and her lady mother, Lady Boleyn, because together they had conspired to make the Princess fall in love with George, thus keeping her in England.

* * *

That night, Ned Seymour was plagued by unearthly visions of his wife's ghost descending on him, screaming his name, and then, just as he was about to do the deed, her face transformed into the Princess of Kent.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, Mistress Boleyn by Carolly Erickson, and inspiration from GOT and A Song of Ice and Fire by GRRM.  
**


	20. Chapter 19

Mary was not surprised when she heard her brother Arthur and his wife Anna named their second son after their great ancestors.

She adjusted her pearl diadem, looking behind her shoulder at George who'd just entered the room.

"Ladies." He greeted his waiting women; they all smiled at the handsome Duke. Truly, they all felt, their mistress was very lucky to have him as a husband.

Some of them who wished to be blessed with the same fortune as their Princess, had turned their roving eye to the great Master of the Horse. Lord Beauchamp.

He was exquisite, with manly features –a square jaw and high cheekbones. Fair of face, blond hair, and piercing dark blue eyes. Any woman would be happy in such company. It was a shame though, that none of them had come any closer to achieve their goal.

George hearing the incessant giggles (most of them coming from the new Howard girls in Mary's service) asked his wife to dismiss them. Sharing his frustration for those blond and strawberry haired featherheads Mary agreed. Only Meg and Susan remained.

"You look quite lovely today." George said descending his lips on her neck, suckling on her soft skin.

"George, not here …" She said, biting her lower lip, fighting very hard the urge to rip this silly piece of fabric to shreds and let George take her and ravage her on their marriage bed as he used to.

However, the sound of the horses' hooves and laughter coming from outside, stopped him.

Meg and Susan briefly turned their attention to the window. There was Lady Northumberland, their mistress' great-grandmothers and to their great surprise, the Lord Beauchamp riding on a big black stallion; giving a demonstration for the little toddler, carefully guarded by his lady Aunt as he was placed on his black pony.

The little boy clapped for the Viscount's demonstration and in a broken toddler's voice asked him for another one.

George forced his away from the sight and centered his attention on his wife's neckline. Unlike the other women he had known before her, her skin was smooth and soft and her neck neither long nor short, just about the right size.

He took from one of her chests the pearl necklace her father had given her for her fifteenth birthday when she was still enceinte with Thomas, and put it around her neck. "You look more like a pearl now love." He said, being very careful as he put his arms around her waist. "You look stunning." He whispered softly in her ear, his voice hypnotizing, as his bewitching gaze which had her hook as she looked from the mirror at their reflection.

"Will you whisper that tonight, my lord?" Mary asked, her voice inviting but George had no wish to hurt her, to his view she was still weak and he dared not risk it –even for a night of endless sexual pleasure.

"I will think about it." He said.

"George-" she tried but he repeated the same phrase, his voice still soft but holding and imperious tone that told her the conversation was over.

Yet Mary not heeded his command.

She had gotten better since her great-grandmothers' visits. Her daily exercise with them, the daily walks, had helped on her recovery. It was better than any other medicine or tonic the physicians had prescribed for her.

"I feel much better." She reassured George. He did not look convinced.

"I do, I really do. Lace me up." George laced the back of her grown, as they stared at their reflection they could not believe how much time had passed. They didn't see young people in that frame but their much younger selves as children.

"I know what you are going to say and I am perfectly fine, there is no need to cancel our invitation."

"Besides," she added when she saw he was about to say something. "How would that look to your mother?"

"It is not my mother that worries me. She is a strong woman, she can look after herself. If we were to send a messenger now he will be there in Hever before nightfall, before my mother makes her way to Hampshire."

"I know, but I do not want to trouble him."

"Sweetheart, it's just a servant and the roads are perfectly safe."

"You know they are not." Mary snapped. She calmed herself and turned to her husband. "George, I understand you are worried but I am fine, even better than fine. My great-grandmothers have made sure of that."

"And I will eternally be gratefully to them but … now that you brought the subject, I think it's time you give them your thanks and tell them to leave ."

"Why?" Mary asked, her tone indicating she had taken offense by his suggestion.

"They are my family George. And besides they've done a wonderful job looking after the children, just look at the way Thomas acts when he is with them. Even you have to admit that is a miracle." Since he doesn't take well to strangers –she wanted to say.

He was forced to agree with her on that point. However he pointed out: "Anne Marie and Mary Isabella are still very weak, the excitement could wear them out and it could wear you out."

"George, for the last time, I will be fine." She said, forcing a smile. Her husband didn't understand this was easy for her. He'd known court life all his life but what for him was a job, for her it was duty, it was a matter of honor, respect, and duty. And those were her words after all.

He sighed. "If you say so, I am not going to argue with you." He said and left.

Irritation swept through her again as George exited the room. He did not understand; if they said 'no', what would this say about her? She was a Princess born with everything and she had an image to maintain, besides, her mother had ridden to Flodden Field while pregnant. This was nothing.

The last touches were added to her hair when her mother-in-law arrived, earlier than expected that mid-afternoon.

"Mother," she greeted the older Boleyn. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you dear." Elizabeth said as they kissed each other's cheeks. "You look much better. George wasn't lying about your fast recovery." Her gaze shifted to her grandchildren. "May I?" Mary offered no protest. She took the oldest of them, the boy, Thomas, named after his grandfather, her husband.

"He is wonderful. Hello, little man." She said, kissing his forehead. The baby waved his arms, trying to wrestle himself free. Elizabeth had no choice but return him to his nurse.

"And these two young ladies, definitely take after their mother." Elizabeth said eying each one of them carefully, smiling as both returned their smile. There was definitely more Boleyn in these two despite their Plantagenet looks. They did not complain when she held them.

"What do you make of the Lady Boleyn?" Lady Wydeville asked her companion when they are at the dinner table.

"This is hardly the appropriate time to discuss this."

"I think this is the right time." The older woman returned. She smiled at the younger woman as she smiled at them. "Smile." She told her companion but Margaret's lips remained pursed until they formed a thin line that made the younger woman turn the other way.

"That was very rude of you." Elizabeth chastised when everyone had gone to their respective chambers for the night, and they remained in the parlor.

Margaret did not look up from her religious book.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"I did loud and clear." Margaret said. "And my answer is the same as I would have given you them had I thought it important, I do not care to smile when I do not feel like it."

"But that was our great-granddaughter's mother-in-law."

"And?" Margaret asked, still not looking up from her book. "She is no different from any other Howard."

"Diplomacy-"

"I know damn well about diplomacy, you forget I fought my son's wars in paper when you were too busy appealing your sons' cause to Richard."

"Ouch my lady," said the former Queen. "There is no need to hurt. I was merely suggesting you be nice to the Lady Boleyn. She may be a Howard through and through but her daughter is not."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Lady Boleyn does not get her last name simply because of her marriage to the late Thomas Boleyn."

"A traitor." Margaret cut her off.

"That may be," said Elizabeth. "But he was your son's *esquire and our grandson gave him more appointments before his betrayal. Thomas Boleyn was no fool and he educated his children well. The youngest daughter is molded in his image."

"I do not care what that crow and her family have to say about me. She thinks that just because she wears a French headdress and acts, talks like a French girl and thinks of herself a connoisseur of the world that she can challenge me, Margaret Beaufort. I who descend from Kings and Queens," she snorted. "What does she know?"

"She descends from Kings and Queens as well." Elizabeth pointed out. "If I recall, it is through the Howard line the girl descends from the first Edward and so she bears Plantagenet blood. That makes her and her brother partly royal."

"The oldest girl is a whore you know? They had to marry her right away so no one would notice her pregnancy. Thank goodness Katherine was smart enough not to keep her in the royal palace with the other children, she would have contaminated them as she has contaminated her children no doubt with her influence."

"For a woman of the world my lady, sometimes you sound too ignorant of the ways men and women think."

"I am not ignorant my lady, just cautious. Do you think I want that kind of influence on my great-granddaughter's children? With a family like that, they can expect nothing better."

"I do not agree." Elizabeth said, flashing the Countess a smile.

"What are you planning?" Margaret asked, knowing full well what the smile meant.

"You have seen the children, except for the oldest one, they are finer children, lively, cheerful, a bit reckless but it will only take a strong and firm, moral hand to set them straight."

"Not George Boleyn. Man cannot afford to have a guilty conscience. He says even raising his voice against one of them would make him feel unclean. Bah!" Margaret exclaimed. "Give me a Henry like my son or an Arthur and he would set them straight and see the girls do not grow unruly like their Aunt."

"Well that is the wonderful thing about England. It's full of men filled with stronger resolve, men of the world such as you Lady Derby."

Margaret's lips suddenly twisted into a smile. "Who do you have in mind? Not Ned Seymour I suppose?"

"That is exactly who I have in mind. Lord Beauchamp bears one of your ancestor's titles, he is strong, careful and he is a man of the world who does not care a bit about image or appearance and if given the chance he would have a firm hand on our daughter's children."

"Ned Seymour was married two times and one of his wives is still living. It would be a scandal."

"That so called marriage was annulled so he was only married once and she is lying six feet under."

"I never took you for a pragmatist but I am glad you are not thinking of jewels for once."

"This so called pragmatist self you speak of is no more real than the illusion my husband kept me under before Richard came and destroyed the illusion along with my son's dreams of succeeding his father. I am my lady, very realistic." Elizabeth said.

Margaret chuckled. "At least you are starting to show signs of intelligent life." She said and put her book down, finally looking up at her older companion and former Queen. She could see the woman was serious but just how serious was she?

Mary was someone they both cared. Margaret did not want to see her hurt.

Just then, the man in question came.

Ned bowed to them then headed straight to his chambers.

Ned had spent the night (with the help of one of the grooms) trying to capture one of the stallions that had run off into the woods.

Three more weeks and he would be gone. Ned dreaded the idea.

* * *

"Your great-grandmothers stayed late last night."

"Let them, they like to stay active despite their old age."

"Active would involve them riding horses, racing each other, playing cards but these women what they usually do is gossip and talk behind our backs. Mary," he sighed, trying to give himself courage, "I know this is not easy for you to hear but please look at me, your great-grandmothers have to go. We cannot have them here anymore."

"We?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Or you?" He said nothing.

"They are my family George. I will not throw them away just because they intimidate you."

"It's not just me they intimidate but my mother and my sister as well. You saw how they behaved last night. That behavior can't be tolerated."

"I know and I will speak to them to tell your mother it was all just a big misunderstanding."

"No, Mary it was not. How long are they going to keep doing this? To them? To us? They have been meddling in our marriage since day one. It's clear they don't like me, and it's high clear they disapprove of my family and this marriage."

Mary bit her lip, she looked away but George grasped her shoulders and brought him to her. "Mary the time has come to choose. Me or them." He tipped her chain and raised her head so she met his gaze.

"Please," he begged. "I know this is hard."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do. But this our marriage, our lives and if they can't adapt to that then maybe they don't belong here. That is not to say they can't visit; all I am saying is they can't be allowed to stay here anymore."

Mary opened her mouth then closed it. She was at a loss of words.

George saw the conflict that was going through her mind and gave her a kiss she did not return this time, and said with a small smile before he left their chambers: "Thinks about it. You do not have to decide anything now but do think about it."

She did think about it and she decided she was not going to do what George wanted. How could George even think to ask her something like that, or, think that she would ever consider kicking them away?

They were her family, the closest thing she had right now since her parents were so busy of late making arrangements for her older siblings' weddings.

* * *

They had everything going for them, they had before them paradise. An Eden, a new Eden they had built for themselves. Going against popular opinion, they had defied all convention married. They had become the most sought-of couple in Europe after the Crown Prince and the Princess of Kent with their respective spouses. They were a novelty and as long as the glamour lasted, they made sure everyone stared at them, admired them and loved them.

The Princess Anne especially, after celebrating her eight-and-tenth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private and relative of the up-and-coming Seymour family had heralded her sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster.

Anne sported her best fashions. This was a procession like no other. The Royal family was strong and like the ancient nation of Israel, bountiful. The Tudor seed was strong and proof of this was in the King and Queen's marriage, his siblings' marriage, including the latest one between the Princess Catherine –now Queen of France- to King Francis. There was no other dynasty in history that had this record of success. The King's sister had given the French King in two years in a row twins. One of them had died but that did not matter. It proved that the Queen could give birth to healthy children, _**sons**_ to keep the Valois-Angouleme line strong for the next century. With the religious wars in France and the many factions dividing the court, the Queen's success in childbirth had given Francois hope and made him even bolder in his verbal attacks against the papacy, the Emperor, and his brother-in-law whom without his success would be non-existent.

It did not matter. The King had another sister who had married the Elector of Saxony and who in the absence of a male heir; her husband would inherit the Dukedom of Saxony, thus becoming one of the key players in the Holy Roman Empire and potential ally -should England take the side of the Protestant nations- against Charles V.

But nothing was more impressive than to show the Royal family walking as One. One mind, One body, One soul, One goal. Working for the preservation of the Tudor state against all enemies, foreign and domestic. And to show their almost godly and invincible position, they paraded in great litters and carriages throwing gold, jewels, and roses at the crowds as they passed by.

People remarked it was unlike nothing they had ever seen.

Anna, who had never seen crowds like these in her life, became overwhelmed. She overcame her fear when people started calling out her name as the gates opened for her and the Royal family.

She could hear their chorus even after they reached Westminster Abbey.

Anne snorted and shook her head. The Lady of Cleves still acted like an amateur. Filthy urchins. Anne pitied their ignorance. People were crying out for their name, especially Anna as if she was some kind of saint. What did they see in her? Anne wondered. The Princess was nothing special. She was not ugly but she was not a beauty either. She was plain**. Plan and simple**, Anne thought with a mocking smile.

The King dismounted from his horse and with his Queen who was helped from her litter by her servants, they were the first ones to enter the Church. The others soon followed.  
The seating arrangements were the same as during the procession.

Next to Anne stood her husband, the Prince and Princess of Wales taking precedence over them (as was to be expected). Behind them, the Princess of Kent with her husband, the Duke of Wiltshire and far behind them, the rest of the royal siblings.

They were not at all happy to see her when they sat down for mass. The Queen rigorous in her sermon as they entered the Church, made certain that everyone was quiet before the service began.

Everyone bowed down their heads after they received the body of their savior, Lord Jesus Christ. Ferdinand and Anne could not help as they knelt next to each other and their two sons, to bite their lower lips to restrain themselves from laughing.

When the service was over their children asked them what was so funny. Anne replied with "Nothing, dear, it's just so funny seeing people so eager to suck on others' blood."

Their children looked at them as if they were the two strangest people they had ever met and then looked at each other, putting their fingers in their ears to make sure they were hearing right.

"What do you mean by that mother?" Their youngest son, Matthew, asked.

"Nothing dearie, it's just a thing adults say when they've been struck by a level of stupidity that far surpasses the commons."

"Now, don't speak so foul about the commons, my lord, remember your wife is part of them."

"Nay," said Ferdinand. "Not you my sweet Anne. You are descended from Kings as I."

"No, I am but a piece of grease on your royal name, everyone says so."

"Tell me who dares to say that and I will have them on their knees screaming forgiveness."

"You say the sweetest things my lord husband. Mm …" Anne moaned as their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Their sons sniggered while making disgusting noises afterwards.

"Boys, don't mock your mother and I, someday you too will be performing the same duties!"

Their sons' face contorted into more disgust. Matthew felt like he was about to vomit.

"Nando!" Anne exclaimed hitting his chest. "You obscene fiend, don't fill our children's heads with filthy ideas." _You do not want them to end like your_ _brother_ –was what Nando knew she had meant to say. He laughed and kissed her lips again.

"What? They will have to learn someday. Besides look at them Anne, are they not like you and our oldest, why you my little chum, you look as strong as your old man."

"My lord father is not an old man." His oldest son said.

Nando shook his head agreeing with him and ruffled his blond hair. "Nay, of course not but your old man, your very old man, and by this I mean your grandfather, keeps himself very strong and his warrior-build. You look a lot like him."

It was such a delight for him to hear it. His face lightened. "Really, I am?" He asked.

"Yes, you are." His father answered, both of them ignoring Anne's look of apprehension.

It was this kind of thing she feared, their oldest son becoming like hi family members, uncles, cousins, and what not. Her son was innocent and unlike the men in their families, she had no desire to see him turn into a buffoon.

"Is Matthew like grandpapa too?" He asked.

Nando turned to their youngest son. Matthew was exactly like Anne, except on her facial features in which if he had not inherit Anne's dark brown hair, he would have been another exact copy of Nando and his grandfather.

"Yes he is but your brother, come here Matthew; has your mother's hair and that makes my dark angel special." He kissed his youngest son as if to reassure him of his words.

Matthew smiled, giving a secretive smile that he first gave his mother when he turned to her as if asking for her approval before he showed it to his father.

His older brother was Nando's; a true Woodville and a Plantagenet, but his youngest brother was entirely his mother's; he was his mother's son.

"Father, if what they say of mother is true then what they speak makes no sense."

"How is that?" Nando asked eager to what he had to say.

"They say that mother is a stain of grease on our royal name yet she descends from the first two Edwards and you descend more directly from the Plantagenet line through all your ancestors, not to mention your mother who also descends from the Plantagenet line."

"That is a good observation, but you should not trouble with what people say of me. I do not have a care in the world for it, neither should you," Anne said kissing his forehead. "you are too young for these matters. This is for mama and papa to solve."

"But it does concern me mother when they insult your good name. After all, many York descendants could still claim the throne based on these arguments."

"Your great-grandfather dealt with all the York threats, there is no longer anyone left for you to worry about."

"There is. The Poles, the Cliffords, the Howards, many who if not York have Plantagenet blood." He pressed on and seeing his parents laugh, he added –"Consider what is being said every day by religious dissidents of all kinds, *Lollards, Hussites, Lutherans, and finally members of our own Church. They believe that the King is not the King and that others more suited should be King because their blood is more pure and less tainted with Irish and Welsh folk."

"Dearie where do you read all this stuff?" Anne asked ruffling his hair. Nando followed her, scooping him in his arms and twirled him in the air, nearly making him sick until he set him down and said laughing: "If I were you my little man I would be more worried about making a good impression tomorrow on your Aunt Mary's daughters. They are your cousins, and who knows one of these days …" He let the thought linger on his son's mind so he would complete the sentence for him.

His expression turned to one of repulsion and he took a step back. "Gross no, God's blood, please my lady mother, tell me I will never have to marry one of them."

"How can say that when you haven't even me them?" Anne asked, appalled that her son could have such prejudice. It was no doubt the product of spending too much time with those men, his Uncle and grand-Uncle, the Duke of Clarence and Gloucester respectively.

"Mother she is a girl. Girls are the enemy."

Relief swept through her and she gave out a sigh of relief.

Ignorant of his mother's thoughts, he continued. "Matthew and I besides have made a promise never to wed, we will join a monastery if we have to." He turned to Matthew. "Isn't that right Matthew?" His younger brother nodded. "There you have it. We are never going to marry."

Anne and Nando could not resist and burst out laughing. "Oh dearie, the day you take the cloth will be the day the Earth will stand still and Heaven shall come on us for judgment." She said laughing harder as she saw her children's angry expression. Her fists banged on the table nearby.

Nando more calmed, yet laughing all the same knelt in front of them and said: "Boys, someday you will grow up and you will find girls are not all that disgusting. I remember when I was your age and I thought 'all women must be disgusting'. Until I realized as I grew up that it is only a matter of finding the right one." He said switching his glance to their mother, they both smiled.

"I still think it's disgusting."

"Yes, what he says." Matthew said imitating his brother's expression. Already Nando and Anne could see who would be the lamb and who would be the shepherd.

"To bed you two." Nando said summoning their governess. The boys complained but a sharp look from their mother made them turn and follow their governess to their bedchambers.

"That was fun."

"They take after you."

"Me?" Anne let out a raucous laughter. "Nando, they take after you. So," she started as they made their way to their bedchamber. "is Henry going to assist the Christening as second godfather?"

"No, Arthur has decided it should be me who should be first godfather, second godfather will be the new Archbishop of Canterbury."

"So Henry will not be assisting?"

"No, I am afraid not. He has some urgent business to attend."

_No doubt cleaning up his latest scandal or Arthur's_ –Anne thought. "Good." Anne said stripping right away from all of her clothes and climbing on the bed naked, working her hands through his breeches.

"How is that good?" He asked. Hs voice quivering as she rubbed his manhood with her soft fingers.

"I am just saying that this is your moment and Henry should stay out of it." She said before dipping her mouth into it.

"Oh Anne." He whispered, throwing his head back, clutching the sheets, struggling to keep his mind focused but she moved with such delicacy that all thought disappeared.

* * *

Margaret Tudor was happy to be back on the continent. She embraced her daughter and was surprised to see how much she had grown.

"Mary," she greeted her niece. "Look at you, you were this little when I left you, now you are all woman."

"You flatter me Aunt, but I am as skinny and boyish as ever."

"Nonsense, you look more beautiful every day. Your Grace, Wiltshire, a true and devout husband, and handsome one too." Margaret exclaimed winking at the Duke of Wiltshire whose cheek blushed furiously. "Someday daughter, pray you make a match as prosperous as this one; remember it is all in the man you pick. Make certain it is a good one and have the will power of your cousins not to let others dictate your life."

"Yes mama." Meg said, laughing inwardly at her mama, promising herself she would never give her heart freely to any man, royal or commoner.

Margaret greeted the rest of her family then sat next to her grandmothers. Lady Wydeville and her namesake had been very friendly with each other as of late. She wondered why.

"No reason in particular." Said the former Queen when their granddaughter inquired, "We've just found interesting topics to discuss."

"I don't believe you lady grandmother. I know you very well and I can tell you two are planning, just what I do not even want to imagine but I will see myself in the rude necessity to force it out of you two if it infringes on our family's security."

"Margaret you talk like your husband." Her namesake said later adding, "the first one. What did he say to your late brother after Arthur sent him to meet the Scottish Ambassador, what was his name again?"

"Comyn." Elizabeth provided."

"Ah yes, Comyn. Strange name, all these foreigners have strange names, anyway," she waved her hand quickly, speaking faster as she saw her granddaughter's lips move, about to speak. " 'Sire, my King summoneth Your Majesty and Your Graces to be at home in your realm, on the defense." She gave a low mocking laugh. "I remember Henry's eyes blazing with fury as he replied 'Ye have well done your message. Yet it will becometh a Scot to summon a King and his noble brothers, Princes of England. Tell your master that I distrust him as my brother if hath not yet made it clear. And he, to summon my brother, the noblest of all Christian Princes from his sacred duty of safeguarding the English peace, is naught more but a threat and of the most foul'" Margaret said the last word coming out as a hiss.

"I do not mean to threaten you lady grandmother, I apologize if I came out in that way, but I only mean to-"

"Stop there Maggie, we know what is that you meant child and to be brutally honest, I think there is no need to try your husband's trick. It failed with your brothers, it will fail with us."

"What makes you say so?"

Margaret gave another sharp laugh. "Dear Maggie, we are women of war, not of the world like all these empty-heads surrounding your brother's court. We have seen through the carnage, men's wounds and women's weeping, nothing impress us or fails to scare us anymore."

"Not yet." Margaret warned her namesake. "If I were to go to the Queen-"

"Go then." Elizabeth cut her off. "What will our granddaughter-in-law say? Have you seen her lately? Did she receive you with open arms?" Her tone verged on mocking and it brought a wider smile to the former Queen of York's face as she saw her daughter's face flush with anger. "Old wounds still die hard and you and her are not yet on good terms, I doubt you ever will. By that reason alone she will not believe you. Do not forget she wants her darling daughter to stay in England no matter what. The others are Arthur's but Mary is hers and she is her papa's darling girl too. She is England's precious pearl, the most beloved Princess in Europe, no one in England wants to part from her."

"All the more reason for them to believe me," pressed Margaret. "If they hear what you are doing-"

"And _**what are we**_ doing?" Asked Elizabeth with a taunting voice, giving a loud laugh afterwards that made every head turn in her direction. She flashed the older Arthur and Katherine a smile and gave a confident shake of her head, sending their attention back to their oldest son and daughter-in-law.

"Do not play coy with me lady grandmother, I know very well what you are doing. I have seen it since you two have set your eyes on poor Lord Beauchamp, it is by no mere accident their paths have often crossed or the rare incident my daughter has told me in her last letter before I came to England that one of the stallions Edward gave my niece Mary happened to 'roam off' so suddenly when the stables were well cared for and it just happened at the exact time that Ned Seymour happened to pass by."

"Coincidences do happen, do they not Lady Wydeville?" Margaret said making a gesture as she turned to the lady in question as if this was the most common thing in the world and Maggie was making an exorbitant assumption out of something so little.

Lady Wydeville returned the same expression, nodding to Margaret.

"Excuse me if I do not believe you my ladies, but I must ask why George? What is so special about him that you must vex him?"

"We do not want to vex him, we are simply interested in our great-granddaughter's welfare. Our great-granddaughter as you are aware is the Princess of Kent, the only Princess in English history to have a title of her own. As femme sole that makes her perfect prey, and is her husband's House sigil not a crow?"

"Very true. Men always go for the money."

"Not this one." Margaret countered, defending her nephew-in-law. "George loves Mary and Mary loves George."

"Do not delude yourself Margaret. Why did you marry Archibald and what was Archibald really after?"

"Do not turn this on me. That was different."

"Was it?" Margaret and Elizabeth exchanged a grin and turned to their granddaughter.

"Thomas Boleyn trained his children to take what they want, whenever they want-"

"I am not hearing this." She moved to stand.

"-without a flicker of thought of who they hurt in the process."

"Thomas Boleyn is dead and the Queen's compassion saved his children from turning like him."

"Do not be foolish dear. They are still like his father."

"The younger daughter especially," added Elizabeth. "they will hurt your niece and our Princess." She locked gazes with her granddaughter. "And when she has nothing left to offer they will discard her just as Thomas Boleyn would have done so had he been the one married to her."

"You two have no heart." Margaret said, each word dripping with more venom than the last. She knew she was hurting them and she did not care; she wanted them to hurt. Yet the women displayed no emotion. Years of suffering and being forced into unwanted marriages for one and betrayed by the man she loved in the case of the latter, had rendered the Red Queen and White Queen emotionless, virtually genderless with nothing in those blackened hearts but malice.

"George Boleyn loves Mary and he loves her, it's an emotion you will never understand." She said lastly, giving them one last hateful glance before she went to sit by her daughter's side who sat next to her cousin, the subject of their discussion, Mary.

* * *

**Author's Note: Mary Boleyn: The Mistress of Kings and Henry VIII and his Court by Alison Weir, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, and Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman. Inspiration from GOT and Kennedys.**


	21. Chapter 20

Ned walked the halls of Hampton. It had been four weeks since his return from Hampshire. He missed her. He could not help it. Every day without her became more unbearable, especially with the rumors flying about that her marriage wasn't all the Princess initially hoped for.

Edward smirked The problem with these royals –they wanted everything handed to them. It didn't work out that way, not with commoners, whether they be your spouses or in-laws. You had to work. The Princess had not worked a day in her life, she did not know what it was, how it felt, to earn a day's keep. For her, everything was a given; she considered everything hers.

Edward envied them sometimes; royals. They could have whatever they wanted without a flicker of doubt in their minds whether it belonged to them or not, or was it right for them to take it.

The Boleyn, he admired them because they took what they wanted without a flicker of doubt whether they should, they just took it. He was related to the Howards and Boleyns through his mother's long, long ancestors but that was something that had been forgotten over the years. All that mattered now was who got to the finish line and lived to tell their tale.

Edward vowed he would be the one. He was the strongest, in mind and spirit, of his family, and he wasn't afraid of a little challenge.

He had known obstacles all his life but that had never stopped him from obtaining his goal.

He sighed and went back to bed. The Princess was probably asleep now in an empty bed, trying to ignore her husband's laughter and cries of passion that came after bedding another woman.

Could it really be true? Edward thought. Part of him hoped so. He heard their last discussion from his sister Jane, had ended with the Princess screaming foul things at him and he shutting the doors of their chambers at her as she ran off to her new ones, screaming he would not see her until she obeyed him.

Poor George Boleyn, Ned almost pitied him. Almost.

The man did not know this was not a kitten he was confronting but a lioness, a crazed-power-driven lioness who didn't like to be told what to do. And he had committed through his own arrogance the grave mistake of ordering her to banish her closest female relatives from their home.

Did the Prince really believe she could do such a thing? That the indomitable Princess of Kent would bow to his will willingly and patiently as any other woman would? He was terribly wrong and now both were paying the price of his arrogance.

* * *

"Your Grace, Her Majesty, the Queen Dowager is here to see you."

"Send her in."

Her grandmother came bearing gifts for her. One by one her servants knelt before the Princess of Kent and presented her their mistress' present. The first was a pearl necklace, very similar like the one George had gotten her; only this one had a golden lioness hanging from the center with ruby eyes.

The others were coffers filled with precious gemstones, diamonds, rubies, pearls, and what not.

"They are beautiful, thank you lady grandmother." Mary said, disregarding all protocol, coming forward, kissing her grandmother's cheek and swinging her arms around her.

"Careful Mary, you will break your poor grandmother!"

"Of course not, Lady Wydeville says you are the strongest woman in England after my mother."

"She may be right about that, but everyone would be strong after bearing eight children." Elizabeth said with a chuckle.

Mary ordered the gifts be taken to her other chambers; she kept the pearl necklace and asked her grandmother to put it. "You look wonderful, just like a Queen." Elizabeth said as she turned her granddaughter around.

"You just say that to flatter me."

"No, I mean it, if it were not for your Plantagenet hair, you would be an exact copy of my mother, your great-grandmother. There are times when you do remind me of her, both of you are very strong and iron-willed. At first I thought that was a defect, until you were born and I saw how different you were from my other grandchildren, including your brothers. You never let anyone tell you what to do and that's good, that strengthens your character."

"I don't think it has done me any good. If truth be told lady grandmother, I would prefer never to be born with this character. If I could have it any other way, I would be passive and sweet like my other sisters."

"Passive and sweet? Sweetheart where do you get your information? Have you seen Bella and the twins lately? They are anything but passive and sweet. Bella is feisty although more conniving than you I am afraid and the twins, behind that smile you can tell there is one devious mind at work."

"At least they are happy, none of them are married."

Elizabeth blinked, she looked closely at her granddaughter and suddenly became aware of the sadness she had tried to hide in her eyes. "When I married your grandfather I was scared he would be like my father or the men in my family and betray me at every turn but in spite of that cold and hard person people thought him to be, he was kind, gentle and respectful."

"I wish George was like that. It's not that he's unkind but he hasn't talked to me ever since I …"

"Disagreed with him over the matter of my mother and mother-in-law?" Elizabeth finished for her.

Mary nodded. Elizabeth pulled her granddaughter into an embrace and told her that things would be fine, they would get better once both of them worked through their differences and talked this through.

Mary shook her head. "I don't think this has any solution grandmother. George hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, he's angry yes, but he doesn't hate you. Mary, if this means so much to him perhaps I could talk to my mother and Lady Derby so they will consider-"

"No!" Mary exclaimed. That was out of the question. She was not going to have them leave just because George said so.

Elizabeth sighed. "What do you want me to do then?"

"Nothing," Mary said. "This is our problem and I will find a way to solve it."

"Alright," Elizabeth said leaning forward and kissing her brow, not too happy with her granddaughter's response. "Just remember darling, no family member is worth risking your marriage for."

* * *

Mary Brandon sat down, hearing her eldest daughter Frances play the lute. "That is enough sweeting, let your Aunt, rest" Her oldest brother said.

"How are you feeling sister? You seem sicker each day." He asked, showing his concern once Frances left.

"I am fine brother. Does the sun ever shine in this dismal place?"

Arthur chuckled. Behind him, his son and daughter-in-law, who had been allowed to stay, flashed their concern as well. "Your Aunt is very stubborn my dear, I pray that you daughter are not as her."

"I would very much like to have a daughter like her, Your Majesty. I think strength in character is very important, more in a woman than a man." Anna said, showing a placid smile.

Arthur roared with laughter. Why couldn't his younger sons marry someone like her? Wise, gentle, and strong, while bearing a placid personality.

Henry was unwed and Ferdinand was wed to a shrew. A woman who ruled him and kept him on a tight leash, and was unbearably proud and arrogant unlike any other woman or person he knew.

"Spoken like a true Queen. No doubt she will make a good one, brother. You must remember to reward Master Cromwell for finding you this one." Mary Brandon lied smoothly, flashing a smile to her nephew and his wife.

She began to cough and Arthur went to her side, handing her his handkerchief; Mary refused it and took out her own. She did not want him to catch the disease, whatever it was. England was still in need of their King; her nephew was still too young to inherit, she considered, and his wife was not yet ready; although many who praised her would like to think otherwise.

Anna was raised as a country girl, raised all her life to please and to sow, more than a Princess. It had taken her months to adapt to English weather, and even then, she had still been shy. Although her nephew praised her for gentleness and her sweetness, people of the high court knew her to be shy and silent still. Hardly what a Queen ought to be, many exclaimed, including her.

"She is my Diana." The Prince of Wales declared giving his Aunt a curtly smile, knowing what passed through the older woman's mind.

"Young love." The older Arthur said still smiling as he turned to his sister, concern showed on his face again. "See my physician, you refused to listen to me before, do not refuse me again, I am not asking you this time sister, I am insisting."

"Kings do not insist, they command." She stated imitating their father's tone and expression "Do you forget what father's lesson?"

"Yes, I do, and I usually did not follow his advice."

"But you were always nodding and sitting attentively while the rest-"

"I did so father and our saintly lady, _the King's Mother_," he started in a mocking tone. "would not give me a boring lecture like the ones she gave all of you."

"Brother, brother," she grinned. "I always knew that you were the one we'd have to watch out, thank Heavens we were not enveloped by the same darkness that engulfed our grandfather, Edward, and his siblings."

"Sister, sister," he returned with the same amused grin. "that is because we are Tudors and do not forget we also descend from the Wydeville line and common as it is, that family has always been close."

"True." Mary admitted rubbing her nose against her brother's then rested her head at the crook of his neck. How she missed him. She had always been closer to Harry and Edward, but there was always something special in Arthur. His presence always managed to sooth her in ways her favorite brothers could not.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources: Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, and notes. Inspiration from GOT.**


	22. Chapter 21

"You shouldn't be doing this anymore."

"He's my brother."

"And you're his." Anna said, overstating the fact that he had become Mr. Fix-it for his younger brother for far too long. After they had return from one of his Aunt's many states in Suffolk, they had found Henry had impregnated yet another servant wench of theirs, this time one Anna had been very fond of. Arthur quieted the affair by giving the girl in marriage to a large landowner. Not important by any means but his holdings were great and he was very loyal to Arthur, he swore to look after Henry's former lover and raise the child as if it was his own.

The Duke of Clarence had to look after his own affairs and solve his own problems. He was no longer his brother's responsibility. He was past the age of being his brother's shadow. Arthur had been thwarted by his demands and complaints for far too long.

"What do you want me to do?" Arthur became angry as his wife pursed her lips until they formed a thin line, refusing to speak. "Tell him I can't help him because my wife ordered me not to?"

"You know what I mean." Anna said controlling herself not to utter another curse as she had to at the start of their conversation. "You've done enough for him. First it was Bessie Blount then Jane Howard; everyone still doubts your brother's parentage."

"I am not going to hear this-"

"They think they are yours Arthur!" She walked to him and grasped his shoulders with a great German force he never thought she possessed. Her hands slightly larger than his –and rougher- held him.

"Pray that his other sins do not fall on your head." She hissed, losing control all at once.

Downstairs, the kitchen's doors that connected to Ludlow's great hall that Anna had established so the food would not arrive to their dinner guests cold; opened and with a great struggle to keep on his two feet, Henry ordered the best wine from his brother's cellar to be brought to his new mistress.

"Anna, I know it's not always been easy living with my brother, but he is my brother and I will stand by him no matter what."

She tilted her head sideways. "You've done everything you had to do for him. No more Arthur." She walked to the window, knowing her brother-in-law would exit through the kitchen's back doors with his whores. She spun around and faced her husband. "It's either him or me, but you cannot have us both." She said and walked away, closing the doors behind her.

* * *

Knowing he would not heed her warning she wrote to her mother-in-law. The Queen was enraged when she read her letter. She summoned her son. Her son, bowing elegantly before his parents, in addition gave his finest smile knowing what this was about.

"Mother, father, 'tis a joy to see you."

His father raised his hand forcing him into silence. "What are you going to do about Mistress Stafford?"

"Mistress Stafford? I-I thought it was clear I was not to marry her. I propositioned to her as you told me to after the pregnancy to avoid scandal but it's obvious the lady does not want me."

"Nonsense, no woman rejects a King's son, especially a second King's son who is so handsome-"

Henry blushed at his mother's words.

"-and reckless and cold hearted, and disregards his women as if they were a piece of chattel and throws them into the dogs so the pigs of court can get their hands on his discarded property."

"Mother!"

"My lady that is enough." The King said, his tone verging on warning.

Her eyes were blazing were fury; Henry's were equally so, his hands trembling with immense fury and resentment that he couldn't strike out and say what was really in his heart that he meant to say at her.

"Henry, we are all very worried. At first the rumors were … were … easy to handle, they were just rumors and easily discarded as nothing more than foul gossip. No one respectable believed it and I myself, I confess, am guilty of fostering this protective thought out of fatherly love. But … the rumors have become too great to ignore." He leaned over, resting his chin on his joined hands; his elbows placed on his knees.

"Henry, son, if you were to give up on these dalliances we could find a way to put this nasty business behind us. But you have yet failed to please us. If the ladies were discrete but they aren't; I am afraid I cannot help you, not this time." He added giving him an apologetic look and eying sideways, warning him of what was to come.

"My lady mother, I know that I have not shown the noblest of character but is it not common for any Prince to take a mistress?"

"It is but you have neither taken nor intended to take an official one, and let me speak my lord Duke of Clarence before you think to give another excuse." Katherine's voice turned harsh at her last warning, a warning he heeded this time. "While it is your official right to take a mistress, I said be quiet!" Katherine roared, seeing his lips move. Do not try it, her eyes said. "I care none of it. You will marry as it is you duty and your responsibility to the realm. All the other members of the royal family have, with the exception of yourself, your sisters Isabella, the twins, and Elizabeth, and your Uncle, Edward. I will not tolerate another scandal and I will not have tolerate covering up the expenses for another bastard of yours. Now leave my presence and next time you show it will be for your future bride."

He remained standing, looking pointedly at his mother.

"Did you not hear what I said? Leave!" She turned to face her husband. "Your Majesty."

Henry looked at his father, his look turning pleadingly. "Leave." He said giving a greater apologetic look that Henry had no use for. He turned on his heel and left.

Betrayed and hurt by the man he admired and looked up to. And all for what? Because the women in his family were more men than women. Unnatural creatures, they knew nothing of pleasure or enjoinment. They were unnatural. He hated them!

He tried going to his Uncle Edward, appealing to his conscience which he knew weighed the same as his, for help but his Uncle turned him down as well. He was not going to risk a fight with his brother, and much less the Queen who already was on his trail for the woman he'd gone after as well.

* * *

"Henry, brother!" Johanna said, swinging her arms around her older brother. Her twin came behind them and swung her arms around his waist. Both were just as strong as him, and a head taller!

"We heard what they did to you. Such unfairness!"

"Completely unfair!" Agreed Catherine.

"Cat, silly kitten. How I missed you both. I did not know where else to go, I tried our sister but then I remembered she lives in one of our brother's manors so that was out of the question, I tried Nando but-"

"Mistress Stanhope didn't let you." Finished Cat for him.

"You should know better than to test your luck with her Henry, she hates you." Johanna informed him taking his coat as her sister pulled a chair for him. "Poor Nando, she keeps him on a tight leash. Did you know she celebrated your absence during the procession this past April holding a banquet on this state for three entire days?"

"I do not doubt it." Henry said with a chuckle. "Witch has had it in for me since my son was named Earl of Grantham and her sons continue to be mere 'Lords'."

"Well it is not her fault, it's our lord father for not giving them their proper titles. You would think them being his grandsons, he would care." Catherine provided.

"Oh shut up Cat, our brother didn't come here to be lectured." Johanna chastised. In response her twin stuck out her tongue.

"I am just saying, Harry's sons although far more beautiful and of nobler lineage are illegitimate and far less worthy of such titles while, much as we hate to admit it, Anne is family and her sons are legitimate."

Henry rolled his eyes and threw his head back. "Cat, do us a favor and listen to Johanna and shut up."

"Go upstairs sister. Let the grown ups talk." Johanna said waving her hand at her, dismissing her.

Cat rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue at both of them, giving Harry a death glare before she ran off to her chambers and locked herself up.

Johanna and Henry looked at each other and laughed. "Poor brother, must be very hard having to deal with mother's carbon copy."

"Do not forget you have another copy living upstairs with you."

"Oh Cat? Pah! She is nothing. Besides, I know how to handle her."

"I wish I could have your secret."

"It's no secret, you just have to pretend you like them; you know, their kind." She specified "Mama, Cat, Anne, and Anna, believe they are in their right because they are highly religious, well mama is at least. They believe everything they do is for the salvation of their children's souls." She giggled.

"It's rather pitiful to be honest, if there was really a God all mighty, He would care very little for men's affairs. I mean, if you were the all mighty, would you care for what your lesser creations' affairs?"

"I think so." Confessed Henry, his voice quivering, not at all overjoyed with their conversation. He would rather they were outside where the reeds and the roses did not have ears. His mother's little eaglets and his still great domineering great-grandmother was still known for having her little eyes and ears everywhere. He eyed the servant who came to pour more wine to their silver cups suspiciously.

"I think-" he added carefully, "if God was all mighty he would care for his creation to some degree, we are after all made in His image so we cannot be all that deficient."

"I think you are speaking from fear rather than common sense. Perhaps mother is right, perhaps you do need to grow up some more."

"I am not afraid, just cautious-"

"Of what? Afraid that mama will come lurking behind the curtains? Afraid of the big bad black she-wolf, Lady Beaufort might come out and stab you with her razor-sharp claws?" Johanna giggled. "You have nothing to fear, everyone here is loyal to me and more afraid of me than Lady Beaufort and our mother."

* * *

"Anne? Anne?"

"What? I am sorry, I didn't hear."

"Anne, are you sure you are well?"

"Yes, I am." Anne assured her, her hand going to her stomach.

Mary knew that gesture. "You should tell Nando."

"I should but …" She struggled with her words.

"What?"

"The child … is not his."

"What?" Her word came out as a hiss.

"The child is not his."

"Why?" Mary could not think, hard as she searched her brain, for any reason for Anne to do the unthinkable. "Anne, why would you do this?"

"Because I don't care anymore, because Nando has changed ever since that fateful visit of the new Archbishop of Canterbury, ever since the King came to visit us, bearing news of a prospective bride for him. He wants to divorce me Mary, the King wants to convince Nando to divorce me!"

"So you do what? You sleep with the first man you meet? Anne, you might as well just have given my father and his new Archbishop the tools to grant them their much sought-after divorce!"

"Oh Mary," Anne sobbed, burying her face in her hands, refusing to face her friend. "For you royals everything is easy, look at you! You are with a husband who loves you, a husband who would never cheat or-"

Her words died on her mouth as they heard a big commotion come from downstairs. Anne looked questioningly at Mary. Do not ask, Mary's expression read. Not satisfied with her answer, Anne ran downstairs, Mary chasing after her, begging her not to.

Anne's lips twitched in disgust as she saw George Boleyn, her brother-in-law flirt with one of her women. "What is this?" Seethed Anne; she looked like one of the furies in Hesiod's Theogony.

"Mistress Anne-"

"Do not mistress ME. What is this?"

"My lady, I-" Anne did not give her time to finish. She flung herself at the young girl, grabbing her by the hair, and threw her out of Beaulieu.

Anne's angry face turned to George Boleyn. "And you, my lord," she began, mocking his title. "Is this how you reward your wife after three children? Three children my lord and none of them dead, sickly or stillborn, you should be ashamed."

"Your Highness, I would appreciate it if you called me by my appropriate title seeing as I call you by yours despite my initial reservations to do so, seeing as you do not deserve such honors."

"How dare you?" Anne said, but hearing her friend's clear throat and looking menacingly at her, she stopped. She regained her composure, and only said in a voice so low only he could hear: "Treat her well … Your Grace. Us wives do not expect fidelity but we do not like infidelity to be thrown at our faces." Then she left, bowing only to her good friend, back to her chambers.

"Mary I-" George attempted when he was alone with his wife, but she cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it. It is clear to me now." She said with a serious face and resolve before she ran back upstairs to their now separate chambers.

Her great-grandmothers heard the commotion from the rooms adjacent to hers and both exchanged a smile.

* * *

"Where does it hurt?" Anne asked, tending to her nephew's wounds. He had fallen of his pony, nothing big really but George made such a scandal out of it.

He pointed down. She cleaned off the blood from his sprayed ankle. "Sorry."

"Why? Do not apologize, you are a Prince, and Princes do not apologize."

"How do you know that? My grandfather says I am not a Prince, I am a Lord, a Viscount."

"You are a Lord but you are also a Prince because your mother is a Princess."

"So? I will never inherit her titles. Women do not give anything away, they do not inherit anything, their purpose is for breeding."

"Who told you that?" Anne was shocked.

He shrugged. "No one."

She placed her hands on his shoulders after she finished cleaning his wounds. "Tommy, look at me, please look at me." He did. "Your mother is the brightest person I know and I not only mean of her gender but of the entire country. You should not judge her solely on the basis of her gender; she will be very hurt if she hears you speak this way of her and women." She tipped his chin and raised his head. "Look at me," she begged. "I know how hard this must be, but your mother loves you more than you know and whoever told you or made you believe otherwise is wrong."

"But lord grandfather and lady Aunt-" He gasped, covering his mouth all at once realizing his mistake. "Please don't tell her I told you."

Interesting, thought Anne. He is more scared of his goggled-eye with Aunt than his grandfather.

"I shan't but you must also promise that you will get these thoughts out of your head."

"How? My Aunt reminds me of them every day. She says my father is the best thing that happened to my mother. She says she should be grateful, she says she should not mind his affairs, she says-"

Anne put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Do not mind what your Aunt says, she is unwise but this Anne isn't, listen to what **I** say, understood?"

The boy nodded, finding no better answer. "Go to the nursery, play with your cousins, I will be there shortly."

He nodded again and ran off.

Anne sighed and went to visit her friend. Mary was not a person to cry; her father had once uttered the famous phrase now "She never cries". She flashed a sympathetic smile to her friend.

"Who knew you and me we would be together again, Princesses, you married to Nando and I married to George." Mary said. "It all seems so surreal." She attempted to smile but failed. "It was not supposed to end this way."

"Who says it's ended? This is just a new phase of our marriage. Your grandmother, Her Majesty, the Queen Dowager told us herself: marriage is a compromise and when you throw love in the equation, even more."

"But George … He said he loved me."

"He does love you but … he is also scared. He is not used to this position, he may feel he cannot compete-"

"Why? Because his wife is the Princess of Kent, because I-I have sole proprietorship to my states? Is that it? I told him he can't have them, papa gave them to me, I let him administer them, I let his sister run him, I give his family full reign over them. What more does he want?"

"You" Anne answered. "Your image, your states, your titles, everything; he feels you unmanned him and he feels intimidated by you."

"He doesn't have to be, if he wants those states," she paused considering the unthinkable. She shook her head, not believing it had come to this, and looked at Anne. "Maybe I should give them to him."

"Mary no, you will not do that!"

"Do not treat me like a child Anne, if that is what will save my marriage-"

"What will save your marriage is you and sticking by your principles. I did not say he feels unmanned so you would go all subservient on him. I told you so you know what to expect and how to behave."

"And how am I supposed to behave when my presence no longer pleases him?"

"It pleases him alright, but he is a man and men love to be the ones in control. Let him think you are in control, don't do the mistake I made with your brother, don't play the role of the wounded wife; let his eyes wander, it doesn't matter but make sure that every time his eyes wonder, they always go back to you."

"What does that mean?"

Anne shook her head. Her friend was still very naïve. She whispered in her friend's ear, "Take advantage silly of your newfound position. Let your husband enjoy his infidelities, but always remind him why he is still with you." She finished winking at her.

Mary started to protest but Anne shushed her. "You want your husband back in your bed or not?" Mary nodded. "Then stop complaining and listen exactly to what I say …"

* * *

George arrived to his chambers late that night with the servant wench clinging on him. "Oh George, you should not have let me come, what will your wife say?"

Pain of guilt and conscience suddenly showed on his features but a kiss on his earlobe erased all doubt.

"Your father nearly killed me last night."

"He is a nobody, my sister was jealous I got to spread my legs open for you and Prince Henry so she told my pa'." She said. All of a sudden, she giggled as she remembered something. "Imagine, me mistress of Prince Henry and Prince George. Oh Lara would have never expected it."

"Then she is a fool and you are lucky and let's leave it at that." George said smiling.

She giggled and opened her speak but her words were lost as he found Mary waiting in his bed.

"My Lady … I-I-I mean Duchess, Your Grace …" she said letting go of George and curtsying before her lover's wife and Princess.

"Rise." Mary instructed and the wench did so. Mary approached her, tipping her chin in the same manner Anne had tipped hers earlier that day. So this is the little bitch my husband is interested in. "What is your name?"

"Sandra, Your Grace."

"Sandra …?"

"Sandra Elliot, Your Grace." The girl answered, too quickly.

"Mistress Elliot, what were you intending to do with my husband?"

"My lady … I mean Your Grace, I swear I have done nothing to disrespect you."

"No, but it was your intention to." Mary said bluntly.

The girl moved her lips but no words came, finally she closed her mouth, looking down on her bare feet. George had dragged her when her sister fought to keep her hidden in the barn before their father discovered them, convincing her that he would take good care of her older sister. Poor naïve Jeanne, her French half-sibling, had always been an idiot, but now it was official. It had only taken him two minutes to convince her.

Mary tipped her chin and lifted her face. "Look at me" she commanded and the girl glanced nervously at her, locking her gaze with the Princess'. Mary smirked, listening Anne's sentence run over and over in her head. Always make sure his eye turns back to you. Well, if this is what it took.

Mary surprised them both by leaning forward and taking the girl's lips into her own.

When he came out of his shock, she had parted and looked at George; a wide grin crossed her face.

"Well, my lord?" She asked teasingly. "Shall we resume?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken by Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, Henry Tudor Society and On the trail on the footsteps of Anne Boleyn blog. Inspiration from GOT, A Song of Ice and Fire saga GRRM, and Borgias.**

**Check out my flickr. New pics posted!**


	23. Chapter 22

It was not long before everyone found out about her pregnancy and the rumors that followed it. Ferdinand tried to convince everyone it was his child while in reality he had grown tired of Anne. He never thought he'd say it but the woman infuriated him. She was not the girl he'd fell in love with. She'd grown jealous and possessive and she resented him for not fighting his father when his lady mother offered to give titles and part of her dower lands to their oldest sons, especially Matthew whom she'd grown very fond of. His father refused his wife, the first time he ever refused anything and her husband had gone along with it!

Her useless, indolent husband! The rest of his brothers were profiting from their appointments and their titles while Ferdinand continued to profit out of nothing! He was Ferdinand the Lackland, _Prince._

(It had a nice ring to it. –Thought Anne. John Lackland. Ferdinand Lackland.)

Anne wiped the tears from her eyes with Mary's handkerchief. She'd done exactly as she told her, at least someone had listened to her, and now he had George eating off her fingers. Just how long for though, before her husband went whoring off again? Not bearing the thought of being dominated by his larger-than-life wife.

Anne smirked. "We women," she started. "are doomed to nothing but disgrace. It's the fate of us all for eating out of the garden of Eden and casting God's greatest creation."

"No" Mary said, shaking her head vigorously. "I refuse to believe it. I will speak to father sister for you are still my sister, nothing is certain until Parliament says it is, and I will tell him –no! I will order him to reinstate you as Ferdinand's wife and leave behind this dreadful nonsense."

"But it is not nonsense. Besides, he's given me a nice settlement and if this child is a girl, all the more better. She will not be an obstacle to my boys' inheritance." At least in that she'd manage to convince the King.

"But Anne, you are the rightful Princess and his rightful wife."

"Oh Mary you know better than that."

"I don't care who he gives to Nando as wife, I will not accept her. I shall make her life a living hell, I promise." Mary said, ignoring her earlier comment.

They kissed each other's cheeks and gave their last farewells.

* * *

The annulment came the morning before he went to visit his sister, the children's older Aunt.

He took her hands in his, not afraid to catch whatever ailed her and sat down, pulling a stool next to her bed. "How are they faring you sister? A stupid question but I beg you to tell me since you've written very little in your letters. We miss you at court."

"Oh brother, I wish I could say I shall return soon but constancy will not be the trait I show today. I am more volatile and Charles barely bears it, poor husband of mine. He's taken a fancy you know in Maria's girl."

"I won't allow it." He cut her off, squeezing her hand and placing his other on her shoulder, to keep her down as she moved to sit up. "I won't allow her to replace my sister and the mother of his children with some trollop."

"But she's not some trollop. You have met her, you and Catalina both," she said, advocating for the girl, using her sister-in-law's Spanish name; hoping it would move her brother, reminding him of simpler times when he and Catalina had just been Prince and Princess of Wales. "You like her." She stated.

"I do but not as Duchess of Suffolk! That is only a position my little sister can have." He said, letting go and rising, he leaned forward and kissed her sweaty brow.

"You have always been a fool, big brother. You and Henry both." She added, remembering her other older brother. She shed a tear remembering how he had protected her against the taunts of Margaret and their grandmother, Margaret Beaufort's chastising, when Arthur wasn't around. _"Too busy with Catalina."_ He would say with added bitterness, enumerating the many reasons why he was perfect for Kat and Arthur wasn't. He had been very jealous his brother had married the bride he believed to his view, ought to be meant for him; but once he saw Eleanor all those treacherous thoughts evaporated from his mind.

"I have always tried to be your protector."

"You have always tried to protect me but I never needed protecting. You've given yourself to Catalina just as I've given myself to God and to Charles-"

"Do not speak that way, you will beat death, I know you shall. Everything you do, proud, stubborn as you have always been, has always been for defiance. You will beat death just for defiance, you will see."

"Not this time." Mary said and with a smile she closed her eyes and turned her head the other way.

"One more thing brother." She said as she heard him make his way to the door. She made a long pause. "I know you will not heed my words but please for the love I bear you and for the love I know you bear your family, despite your common sense bidding you to act in a most foul manner; do not." She intoned, that powerful voice he only heard once –when she complained about her marriage to Louis "I repeat do not, under any circumstance allow parliament to annul your son's marriage to Mistress Stanhope. She may not be an exemplary lady, by any means she puts the filthy urchins and the whores your wife gives aid with her charity to shame, but she is a good woman and a good mother and a good wife." She gave another pause, this time brief. "Your meddling will only tear their small family apart; it has already sown the seeds of mistrust among them." Another pause. "I know it was you who put that woman in your son's path and I know the Princess has been in our court, disguised as the Ambassador's niece for quite some time." A short laugh. "I thought you better than that brother, but if you must be the architect of something, be one of preservation, do not destroy what God has joined." She said lastly and slept.

* * *

They buried her near Suffolk county in the bury of St. Edmunds. He thanked God death came swiftly and quick before he had time to confess his sin to her. He could bear many disappointments, his wife's, his councilors, everyone, but not his immediate family.

The annulment had been made official throughout England; he had lied to his sister the following day of its pronouncement. But he told himself a little white lie surely God would overlook.

Katherine refused to speak to him and he only had his brothers and his sister (occasionally) for company. A week after her sister's burial he moved his court to Richmond where he could be closer to his family, most of their states were there; including Nando's.

"What will you do now?" Edward asked him, moving the next chess piece.

Arthur jealously guarded his two more important pieces, the King and Queen, from Edward's knights.

"I do not know." He confessed as he moved his white pawn diagonally eating one of his black bishops.

"I guess," he shrugged his shoulders. "I could always bring the real Madeleine."

"You mean that was not the real Madeleine?" Margaret asked astonished, her mouth nearly hit the floor.

Arthur shook his head at her. Edmund and Edward shared a laugh.

"Good God, you are unbelievable." She swore under her breath. "Well where is the real Madeleine or when might she arrive, if I might ask?"

"You might and she is on her way." He said patiently.

Margaret's eyes nearly popped from her eye sockets. She walked to her brother and smacked the back of his head to which he only laughed harder.

"Calm down sister, I think it's a brilliant tactic. Let the boy have a taste of French delicacy before the real thing."

"Yes, except the real thing is probably a sickly girl who knows nothing of men except what she's been taught by her religious mother." She turned back to Arthur. "Claude of Brittany educated her daughters well, all-too-well I might add. You took your son away from a good woman to wed her to someone who will probably give him nothing but dead babies, if she is strong for childbirth –which I doubt it!" Yelled Margaret.

"Maggie, Maggie, calm down! You haven't even seen the girl."

"At least she didn't act as bad as our wives." Edmund said, remembering the Queen's scolding and his own wife's.

"Oh ye of little faith." Edward mocked knowing Arthur would shoot him a death-glare.

"We have much faith we assure you." Arthur and Edmund said returning their attention to their game, Arthur moved another pawn forward.

Edward took action at once and ate it, thus moving closer to his king.

"You do. You put your faith in yourselves rather than your wives, and I assure you while commendable it is a poor decision, in fact the worst decision in the history of bad decisions."

"Little brother when I want your advice I will be sure to ask for it, until then be quiet." Arthur said, moving his tower and eating Edward's chess piece threatening his king. When Edward looked down at the chessboard he found he had been fooled by his brother and half of his pieces had already been taken. He moved again, more out of desperation than want, and this gave Arthur victory.

"Check mate." He declared, smiling triumphantly.

Edward muttered foul curses under his breath and crossed his arms against his chest, leaning back against his cushioned chair. He looked at his brother and said in an indignant voice, "You cheated."

"Are you accusing me of being a liar little brother?"

"No, I am accusing you of being a cheater and stealing the game, yes I am accusing you of being a liar."

Edmund and Margaret laughed, while Arthur and Edward stared at each other, grinning. If Henry were here he would agree with his older brother, not liking that Edward was saying what he wanted.

His brother was unruly but that was how he had always been and sure, there had been tutors who tried to put him in line but with Edward there was no such thing as being in line. He was a member of the House of Tudor and thus he could do and say whatever he wanted. His wife was on the verge of exiling and marrying him off as well but Edward was thankful that Arthur showed strength there to keep her from doing so.

"Another one, shall we." Edward suggested after the servants brought fresh fruit, bread, and wine.

Arthur agreed to the challenge, and they spent the remainder of the day playing chess and making plans for his youngest son's upcoming betrothal.

* * *

The bridegroom in question was not too happy about the prospect and he confessed with Henry he needed him since Arthur and his wife, Anna, had refused.

"Do not mind them, Mr. and Mrs. Prude were not likely to come anyway, not when France has sided with the Empire again…"

"And the Empire is threatening on her family's self-rule." Cat finished for her sister.

"But didn't our cousin acknowledge their independence?" Asked Ferdinand, baffled.

"He did." Johanna said and her sister nodded, repeating her sentence. "But he didn't say anything about religious freedom."

"He lied, shameful of him." Ferdinand said, not really caring about the situation in Cleves or any of the neighboring Imperial German states. They could go to hell for all he cared but it was important for him he got his oldest brother's approval. It would look bad if the Prince of Wales was not there to receive his mail-ordered bride. Especially when his actions had been the product of his wife's meddling.

And your mother's –his mind added.

He sighed in frustration. Their mother was always meddling. First she meddled saying he should marry that shrew, now she was meddling saying he shouldn't marry. Henry was right. It was abnormal for women to show such attitudes. Their place was in the home, ruling their own courts, and even there, Henry said, they shouldn't be allowed too much power.

"Cheer up brother." Johanna said kissing his right cheek, looking him from head to toe. "You look magnificent. Soon you will be married and you won't have to deal with mother and those odious harpies." She guaranteed him, giving him another smile then she stepped aside so her twin sister could kiss his other cheek.

* * *

They rounded on her, she tried to escape but they came from everywhere from where the eye can see. She was lost and she knew it. She stopped struggling and ordered her mare to a halt. Her oldest son did the same. Her children were scared, she knew. Matthew had been holding tightly on his brother's waist, and now he held him tighter as the soldiers approached them.

"You have lost the battle my lady, it was a brave attempt but you are done."

Henry drove toward her, his face hard.

He ordered his father's royal guards to take the children and place them inside the carriage he had brought for them. "For your protection, the King begs you to accept the offer-"

"Or what?" Anne snapped. She had been so close. So close.

She only needed ten miles and she would have reached the ship, the Salvation, that would have taken her to her new home in France where her half-sibling was waiting for her.

Henry shook his head. Ferdinand had truly been a fool to fall in love with this shrew, this freak of nature.

At least Arthur's Anna gave the appearance of sweetness. Gazing morosely at the water then to his former sister-in-law; he ordered her into the carriage as well.

"I hate you." She said, her lower lip sticking out in a pouting fashion. He chuckled, she reminded her of Cat. They were too damn similar for his liking.

* * *

"This way," Lady Derby personally escorted the young man and his daughter to their chambers. If Lady Wydeville got his hands on him, she'd never let go. And the last thing they both wanted was the man to run back home scared or claiming abuse. "These will be your rooms for the afternoon, your baggage has been brought to the rooms upstairs. You can move there after dinner."

"Will I be dining with my hosts?"

"No, I am afraid not. But you will see my lady and her husband after they return in the morrow. Good day, my lord." She gave a graceful bow and exited the room.

Ned surveyed his accommodations. His daughter was already seated on the bed, kicking her legs, waiting impatiently for him.

He didn't want to bring her and he didn't think Thomas or his mother would mind looking after her, but since they were all very busy overseeing the preparations for Dorothy and Elizabeth's wedding, and John was too young and yet too irresponsible to look after her; Ned had to beg His Majesty to take her with him.

It wouldn't be for long, he promised. She had her books, her musical instruments, and other things she brought with her to distract her while he carried on with his business.

As he pulled a chair and sat in front of his daughter, he pondered on the Princess of Kent. He gave an inward sigh. It would be more difficult getting to her with his daughter here.

* * *

"We cannot stay here." Mary heard the words whispered gently against her ear, recognized their truth and then dismissed them. She turned to face George and she nuzzled her face against his as their legs tangled wantonly against the linens. "Can we not stay just for tonight?"

They had stolen a few hours and made love as if it time itself did not exist. She wanted more of it. No one knew where she was. For a little while longer surely, she had no one to answer to, except herself. Yet even as the thoughts formed in her mind, she knew that time had ran out and that there were others whom she must answer.

George tenderly swept a lock of hair from her face and kissed her. For too brief a time they clung together then he gently pulled away and sat up.

"We need some of your women, people you can trust to send to Mistress Stanhope, a handful of men too."

She frowned and knew that his thoughts moved away from her.

She sat up too and looked at him. A vague apprehension began to gnaw at her insides. "But why? She is just Mistress Stanhope now; there is no need to send people to guard her. She is no longer my brother's wife."

"She is still the mother of his children and she tried to run away with them last night."

"What?" Mary's face blanched. Could Anne really be so foolish? What had gotten into her?

He read her expression and gave a cold smile. His wife amused him; the little lioness was not as smart as she thought she was.

"But how? Surely she must have known all the borders would be closed."

"Not all of them. She bribed some of your father's guards. Men who were too young to know what they were doing and bribed them with sexual favors-"

She interrupted him, shaking her head vigorously, saying "No! That is not Anne, I refuse to believe it." Surely, it had to be another one of her father's lies. Anne would never be capable of such a thing.

"Oh but she is my darling heart, and what is more I know that your recently acquired talents are a product of her counseling."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Do not play the fool with me Mary." He chided gently going to her and taking her lips in his, falling on top of her, thrusting himself roughly into her. The woman next to them stirred and mumbled in frustration, her body was also hot and covered in sweat.

"And what if she did?" Mary challenged, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the passage of his length against her, releasing his seed into her belly. "Were you not pleased with the results?"

"Aye I was but that is not what I am discussing. That was most uncalled for and as long as you are my wife, it is I who will give the surprises not the other way around." He stated, pouring the last of his seed inside her.

She closed her eyes as she felt his member piston furiously into her. She was suddenly attacked by flashes of mischievousness and pure desire of last night, and the night before that, and the night before that…

He gave a final cry and she opened her eyes, brought back from her memories.

"She is not dangerous, she is just a mother."

"Ha!" George responded with a leer. "Margaret of Anjou was just a mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine was just a mother, your great-grandmother…" he stopped. He pursed his lips and searched for the right words to correct a mistake before she jumped to the wrong conclusion but he was unfortunately too late.

"She was what? The Lady Derby was what George? I am waiting." She said, crossing her arms against her chest as he withdrew softly from her.

"Nothing love, nothing. Let's just put this nasty business behind us. Your brother will be married soon and his marriage to Mistress Anne will be as if it had never existed."

Mary did not like the sound of that. If the pope and Parliament had the power to dissolve marriages based on will, what was it to say they would not do the same with hers? She told herself the notion was ridiculous. Her parents loved George and especially her father, he loved his son-in-law because he kept Mary in England which had been the true reason for giving his jewel away to his treacherous family.

"She is my friend George, I cannot leave her and my mother wrote to me telling me I should not."

"Love, your mother can do whatever she pleases in her court but this is our house, our family and I am not comfortable with having that type of person in our midst, with our children."

"Thomas loves her and the girls love her as well, besides, it would give us a perfect excuse for our nightly runaways in this secluded cottage in the middle of nowhere …" she said approaching his lips but he spurned her, claiming he was too tired from last night.

So this is how it is going to be then. I will be the wife, he the husband, and the nightly pleasures will be for him and him only.

This knowledge made her sad. She had given him her love, her body. She should have known that it would not have been enough to satisfy him. As she searched for words to express her sadness, he searched her hand and brought it to his lips giving it a small kiss then kissed her brow and gently told her they should be heading back.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources: Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, Mistress Anne by Carolly Erickson, notes and inspiration from GOT, BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII, and Greek Mythology.**


	24. Chapter 23

June 25th, 1533 was a sad day for everyone. It had been the day they buried the Princess and Queen Dowager of France in the Bury of St. Edmunds in the county of Suffolk where one of the many properties of her husband's was. Eleanor and Henry went to mass as much as they could to pray for their mother's soul and visited their mother's resting place. Frances on the other hand, saw no point.

"If there was a God" she started, leaning forward to whisper to her cousin who'd just returned from a pleasure trip to her husband's cottage. "He or She" she said in a daring voice, "does not care one bit what we do." God, she believed, had more important matters to tend to than his creations' goings and doings.

As far as she was concerned God created the heavens, the earth, the sea, the animals and other things for men to rule over; after man's fall he cared very little.

Then giving her final words, her voice turned cold, "Was God there when Mistress Stanhope was brought into despair and saw herself in the cruel necessity to flee? Was He there when your parents gave you to George?" she turned away, and gave a satisfied smirk as she guessed (and she guessed correctly) her cousin's expression.

* * *

June was a sad month for everyone, not in the least bit for Mary's mother who missed the company of her sister-in-law. Mary "Rose" Tudor, the Queen Dowager of France, had always been a pleasant person to be with; she brought with her the most well-mannered and accomplished ladies.

Katherine would miss talking to her. Margaret was not the same and with Catherine and Elizabeth gone, she only had her ladies who were all young and were very much in their own world and did not listen to reason or any of the humanist teachings that she was interested in. All they cared for was music and senseless poetry.

Katherine remembered what it was to be young –young and foolish.

She and Arthur had not talked since he told of Parliament's and the pope's decision. He had not been happy when he found out that she sent Gardiner as well but with a separate mission, to prevent the annulment. Unfortunately that double-scheming, backstabbing Gardiner had told her husband everything and for two weeks she wasn't allowed to write or even visit her own states. She couldn't talk or speak to any family member; Arthur feared that she would use her popular image to appeal to the pope or worse, her cousin in the Imperial Court to bring Anne's case to Rome.

When she heard of what had become of poor Anne, Katherine was distressed.

"If you excuse my poor behavior sir or should you find it appalling, I think we should sleep in our own beds now. It is high time we stand by the old laws of marriage." She stated when Arthur had returned from his brother's states in Dover. "After all," she continued when she saw Arthur's lips twitch, about to speak. "We are all bound by royal law to set an example and what kind of example should we set if we were to lie like common man and wife?" Then she bolted from her chair, and without curtsying she waltzed out of the room and moved into her own chambers.

She had moved all her possessions to the Queen's chambers where she now resided. The same arrangements were made for the other royal residences. As for hers, there was no problem there. Katherine hardly visited them except on special occasions when she needed to make a stop before she was to reach her final destination. Now she would have much use of them.

In her will, not trusting Gardiner or her husband's mercy (or even her son's) towards their former daughter-in-law; she left all of her possessions to her youngest grandsons, Anne's sons and of course Mary's.

There was some money to care for Anne's child, the one who was the product of sin and who had started this whole ordeal. Katherine as everyone prayed that it was a girl so it wouldn't be a threat to her brothers' inheritance. To their joy it was and God had punished her mother through her, taking her too soon.

* * *

Anne was distraught. In her grief she turned to madness. Only four months and she would have given birth to the most beautiful child –she was sure of it- that would have taken all feeling of degradation and humiliation she had been put through by the King and his ministers. Yet it was not to be. The child born before its time was dead and Anne could do nothing but weep.

* * *

When Mary heard of this the day following her return from the cottage, besides her cousin's (new to her service) cold words, it only made the dread in her stomach turn greater.

No, she thought, thinking of what Anne must be feeling right now.

She was so angry and distraught by what had been done to Anne that as she made her way to her chambers, she didn't hear her great-grandmothers calling her name or even bothered to acknowledge the Lord Beauchamp and his daughter's presence.

* * *

Agnes pulled on her father's sleeve. He looked down. "What is it?" He asked.

"Why didn't she look at us?"

"She is very busy sweetheart; you forget she is a Princess." He said, trying to shush his child but she was full of questions.

"But I thought it was her duty to say hello to us, we are nobility after all."

"Nay, we are not sweeting." He said but she kept arguing with him, until embarrassed by her less than lady-like behavior, he had to excuse himself from his superiors and take her to a dark hallway and explain to her, their situation. "So you see we are not noble, we have titles and perhaps one day you can marry a noble but that does not make you a noble."

"And in any case," he added tipping her chin and raised her face so she would look directly into his eyes, "her husband is a Duke and therefore he has precedence over us."

"So does his sister." He also said after she protested that it was unfair.

"That is just the way of the world sweetheart." You better get used to it, his words said.

"Well, I don't like it. Grandfather would say that is wrong." She said unlacing the cap and throwing it away; her dark curls flew freely and he saw at once that she possessed the same rebellious spirit as her mother, yet there was also the proud Wentworth spirit in her, he could see the way she held out her chin, and the valiant Seymour spirit. Brave, proud, and loyal as a wolf, he thought, smiling despite her bluntness at his daughter.

* * *

Thomas did not like this. The King had a way of turning on those he helped from time to time. He was just like his father; he did not need to be reminded of his nobles' loyalties. He just took what he wanted whenever he wanted and while his older brother admired that attitude, Thomas did not. He took care of number one: himself. He did not like the present attitude the King was exhibiting in regards to his younger daughter, the Princess Elizabeth whom he was hard set on in keeping in England as her youngest sister, the Princess Mary. For that reason, he had allowed the Duchess of Northumberland and his son-in-law, the Duke of Wiltshire, to foster a relationship between his daughter and their cousin, Henry Howard.

He did not like Henry Howard nor any of the Howards. And the thought of him hounding on the King's second youngest and unwed daughter, angered him. Mainly because he was after the chaste beauty himself.

Just who would win this race, the proud (and haughty) leopards or the power hungry, lusty wolves, remained yet to be seen.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Wikipedia, notes, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman and inspiration from GOT, Bleak House, and BBC's Hollow Crown.**


	25. Chapter 24

*A long-drawn sigh of feminine ecstasy filled the room as the white velvet was lifted from its wrappings. Its folds hung heavily across a lady-of-the-bedchamber's outstretched arms so that every jeweled rose and fleur-de-lys stood out and sparkled in the morning sunlight. Other women, on their knees, reached eager hands to spread the embroidered train. Young Elizabeth of York, standing in her shift and kirtle, shivered with excitement as the dressmaker from France slipped the lovely material over her shoulders; for, princess or no princess, it is not every day that a girl tries on her wedding-dress.

"Oh, how beautiful!" breathed her English attendants.

"Comme elle est ravissante!" echoed the dressmaker and her underlings.

Because she was not sure whether such spontaneous compliments referred to the dress or to herself, Elizabeth, the King's daughter, called for a mirror.

"But, Bess, it makes you look so different!" complained her younger sister, Cecily, who had been allowed to watch.

Different indeed, confirmed the metal mirror. Where there had been a slip of a girl who still studied her lesson books, there now stood a stately stranger who might one day become Queen of France.

_Bess _slipped from her past memories as the future Princess of England and Duchess of Pembroke screamed "Cest magnifique!"

Old Elizabeth of York, standing in her overly large red gown and wearing her old-fashioned long gable hood, went to retrieve the bride's overly large French headdress. It was in the form of a large halo and it suited the French Princess well. "Look at me!" She said in her native tongue, exclaiming to her ladies that being a Valois, she knew she was beautiful, but never this beautiful!

"Should there not be a veil?" she asked, overcome by sudden excitement.

"My daughter, Her Majesty, the former Queen of Scotland, will be sending it herself," replied her mother-in-law-to-be. "An heirloom of my late daughter's days as Queen of France, the jewel from Milan."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Exclaimed the Princess in higher tones that annoyed some of her English sisters-to-be. Among them Mary, Duchess of Wiltshire and Princess of Kent, looking more forlorn and angry as she glanced at her brother's bride. This position should be Anne's, this new title should be hers and yet here she was, serving this new upstart girl who lived all her life cloistered in her palace, in her ambient of jewels and compliments. She knew nothing of intrigue and letter. She was only interested in poetry and the occasional religious works that Mary would discuss with her Elizabeth and their cousins.

She also had another reason to dislike her. She was jealous of the little chit, she was going to be marrying a magnificent husband, just as she had said, and she would be placed upon a pedestal for everyone to see and love her. Mary never felt more ashamed and horrified at herself for allowing such feelings to foster in her towards this girl, whose only crime was not being her friend.

It wasn't her fault, she said to herself, silently chastising her conscience for telling her the contrary. Her father had bought her –as men buy all women- for her brother; she had no idea what she was getting into and who she was replacing and even if she had, it was not her decision to make.

That much is clear, Mary thought grimly thinking to her own marriage. She thought following Anne's advice and giving herself completely, mind, body, and soul to George, would heal the arguments had caused to their marriage but it only made it worse. George had risen too high and he thought of himself untouchable.

There was no doubt in her mind that he loved her, but just how much was he willing to compromise?

What Frances had said when they visited her Aunt and namesake's burial place, remained plastered on her mind, If there was a God why would He bother in solving men's affairs? Was God there when your father gave you away in marriage?

"No." Mary said silently to herself. No he wasn't.

"What is that Marie?" The Princess asked, turning to her bridesmaid. Mary shook her head and muttered "Nothing". Not fully convinced but not about to break her concentration for the arrangements in what was to be the happiest day of her life, she returned her attention to the mirror, looking at her own reflection and giving herself a smile of approval.

"And when I enter the Church of Westminster will my hair be unbound?"

"Westminster," started the Queen Dowager's mother, annoyed with this French hussy. "is **not** a Church. It is an **Abbey."** She emphasized on the word _Abbey_, hoping this dumb girl would understand.

"Bien entendu," said the French Princess with a controlled laugh. "Will my hair be unbound then?" She asked again, this time facing the Queen Dowager.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, Your Highness, it will signify that you come to His Highness, a virgin."

"Please-please-please-let us see now how it will look," begged Johanna and Cat jointly. They jumped with excitement as a maid brought forth her veil and she put it on, walking gracefully across the room for everyone to see.

Coming to a stop she beckoned to her own French ladies to come and unbound her hair. They did so and the oldest Princesses let out squeals of excitement as the Princess' hair fell to her waist in a cascade of strawberry-blond colored glory.

"With that marvelous hair, you will scarcely need another adornment!" Murmured one of her French ladies, with tears of affection in her eyes as well as in the eyes of her older sisters-to-be.

She was marrying into the royal and relative new House of Tudor, but unlike her other siblings she did not think of herself a higher being just because her house was older and far nobler than theirs. On the contrary, she found all the family –with a few exceptions- very pleasant. They had all received with smiles and laughter and she got presents from the King, his brothers, and his oldest daughters every day.

At sight of her future granddaughter-in-law, Elizabeth of York could not help but be reminded more and more of herself, when she had been engaged to the Dauphin and everyone started to call her Madame le Dauphine; including her mother who always made sure to remind everyone of her daughter's new title. It had been a time of dreams, a time when Elizabeth believed everything could be possible. That her position and her title could buy her everything, including happiness.

As she looked down at this petite little figure, she could not help the tender smile that curved in Elizabeth's face, and suddenly she hated herself for bringing back herself that nostalgia of her old life.

As everyone continued to crowd over the Princess and Duchess-to-be, Mary quietly slipped from the crowds and went back to her chamber. The day had been long and if she had remained with the Princess, it would have been longer.

"George?" She had not thought of inquiring whether her husband was present in his chamber. She did so now after she emerged from hers, wearing only a black nightshift, the kind she liked to wear to arouse in him the hottest passions.

"George?" She asked again. No answer. "George?" Her tone now verged on irritation. She sighed, rubbing her face. Where was he?

While she waited she stared at herself in the mirror and suddenly hearing the footsteps of his boots echo across their chambers, she closed her eyes and thought back on when she had returned from their cottage, when she had glanced at Lord Beauchamp and how angry she had been that he'd given her a look of pity rather than admiration or hatred –as she had expected.

She could deal with hatred, that was a valid emotion, it meant that was worthy of something, that she was a formidable foe, but pity? That was for the weak and like her great-grandmother, the Lady Wydeville, she believed pity was the most terrible emotion a person could for another.

She opened her eyes and wheeled her face to George. He was fully dressed and she began to undress him, then when she was done, he undressed her. As they coupled she could not help but think back to those days; those solemn days where she yet refused to acknowledge the Viscount of Beauchamp's presence. She hadn't asked herself why at the time but she did now, and she found the answer very disconcerting.

* * *

Agnes liked being at Court. Her Uncle Thomas and Aunt Jane were there and they were always fun to be around with. Uncle Thomas gave her a full box of sweets and new dolls.

While the Viscount's daughter enjoyed her new dolls; the same doll-maker responsible for making those dolls, had trouble making the Princess' twin daughters accept their dolls.

"They make all of my daughter's dolls and their dresses look, they are the same as yours."

"No, me no like." The oldest of the twins, Anne Marie, proudly said, thinking the doll too horrid. She put it away and pointed her tiny hand, pointing her thin finger at the soldier her brother was playing with. "I want that." She said and when she was denied, she screamed in French and English until Anna had no choice but to give her what she wanted.

Her other sister, Marie Isabella was more pliant and sat obediently in her grand-Aunt, Eleanor's lap, smiling at everyone as they passed them by. "Can I hold her?" Emma, the Duchess of Somerset's middle daughter, asked.

"But be careful, she is very fragile, my love." Eleanor told her daughter handing her niece to her.

"Greetings little cousin, I am Emma your older cousin." Emma explained, giving her cousin a wide smile which she returned.

"You … pretty." Marie said, leaning forward and kissing her cousin's nose.

Mary visited the children's nursery smiling as Anna controlled her oldest daughter, Anne Marie, and then glanced at Marie Isabella who was in her cousin's arms. Their cousins and Aunts were doing a great job curving their strong Tudor-Plantagenet –and above all- Boleyn temper. She looked down at her feet in regret and moved away, returning to her chambers before she was noticed.

She could feel George's seed flourish in her belly, taking root. It wouldn't be long before they gave the announcement. Yet, why did she not feel happy? Every woman in her right mind would. Not her though, not her.

Her usual cheerful face was dangerously flushed and her petite body shook with anger. She barely noticed George and his companion come in.

* * *

Elizabeth giggled, scarcely understanding what all the attention to her person meant from the older men. Not so old, though she, eying Lord Beauchamp's brother. His dark hair was a great contrast to his skin which was ivory white; fairer than his brother's, yet it seemed to matter little in the end when he was called the black wolf and his brother the fair one. And yet it was the black mean wolf that all ladies flocked to.

Her eyes roved to the Duke of Norfolk's heir apparent, his nephew, Sir Henry Howard. He was fair. Blond of hair, white skin (although not as white as his Seymour counterpart) and his eyes were the same color blue although they did not sparkle and glint with mischief as the Viscount's younger brother's.

"So gentlemen, who should take my hand first?" She boldly asked, taking both man's hands.

Henry eyed Thomas giving him a death glare, while Thomas showed little countenance and little care for Sir Henry's feelings towards him.

Lady Wydeville watched the three walk in the garden, in amusement. She disapproved of her great-granddaughter's actions but let her have her fun before her parents gave her away to somebody else.

"Who do you think it will be, France, Spain, or someone in the Holy Roman Empire?" She asked her partner in crime when she turned her glance away from the window and sat.

"If Arthur is like his father, and he is, it will be someone to England's benefit. That is what all these alliances are for, for England's benefit, not for your or our amusement."

"Except our Princess of Kent," reminded Elizabeth, resting her hands on her lap. Her overweight gown did little to ease her comfort. She preferred the fashions of her time when all you needed was a few jewels, one tall headdress, a veil and you were done for. Now kirtles were long, farthingales were wide, and dresses cost twice what they did with sleeves so wide and long theywere almost as long as the lady herself. "She remains our favorite Princess still, does she not?" Elizabeth queried.

"Of course she does, you do not have to ask. But she is currently in a bird cage and with another bird nesting in her belly."

"Shame if something were to happen so suddenly that she would lose the child-"

"Don't think about it," interrupted the Lady Derby and said with harsher tones. "If the King and Queen were to find out, they would find a way to link this back to us and I do not know about you my dear lady but I do not fancy spending the last of my wretched days in the tower."

"Of course they would not know it is us, but 'twas just a thought. After all, many things could happen in childbirth. You remember Anna, she nearly lost her last child but thank the Heavens she is still with child. The Tudor stock is strong; no one can deny that but the Boleyns? Well no one can deny that they are not. How many children has Lady Boleyn lost?"

"The mother has lost plenty; the daughters are fertile and reproduce like rabbits. They have a full litter with their husbands."

"And our darling Princess only has had three, and one of them so sickly."

"Do not exaggerate my lady, you and I both now the Lady Marie is neither small nor sickly. That is just her natural skin color."

"But she might be, if enough people believe it, they will blame it on the father." Argued the Lady Wydeville.

She is right, thought Margaret, the late King's mother. No one was foolish enough to even utter the thought that the fault could lay with the Princess and her family rather than her husband. Since he was a man, the rumors would spread like wildfire, undermining his reputation and his ability to sire strong, healthy children.

"It could work," started Margaret, pondering of the endless possibilities this could lead them, "but our great-granddaughter has yet to notice her husband's flaws." She gave a cold laugh. "The poor child, she is like you believing that her husband is the sun and she is some sort of guiding light."

"No, I think you are wrong. She is like me but your assessment of the both of us is wrong; when I was married to Edward I often got enraged and frustrated with his indolence, the same way Mary is becoming frustrated with her husband's insolence."

"And how to separate them then? The falcon has his claws tightly wrapped around our darling Princess' heart."

"We throw in the bird's natural predator. Not another cat, but a wolf to be sure. They are loyal, fierce and rough and women often find more pleasure in the company of their equals than insolent fools."

"Hah! We already threw a wolf and she's barely looked at him." Margaret sighed, putting her bible aside in the table standing between them. "We need them to cross paths and take that vile bird away from her."

"I think I have the perfect solution." Elizabeth said and pushed her chair next to her companion's whispering in her ear, her plan. The Lady Derby smiled and congratulated the Lady Wydeville on such a brilliant scheme.

* * *

George promised his wife he would be back in time for the child's birth. Mary surprisingly did not weep or give him an open smile as many of her mindless women often gave her husbands. Instead, she offered him a simple closed smile and kissed his cheek then said quick farewell and watched as he stepped into his carriage and rode away. She stood there with her hands behind her back, until his carriage disappeared from view then she went back to Westminster Palace, to join the family in the yearly feast, celebrating her oldest brother, the Prince of Wales' thirty first birthday.

The roads were frozen yet the King promised her that George was riding through a safe-conduct where the roads were safe and he would be able to reach France safely, he guaranteed her.

Her mother who was still at odds with her father forced herself to smile and reassured her as well, yet her eyes spoke of a different reality.

Mary shifted her gaze, with a hand on her half-swollen belly on her new sister-in-law, the Princess and Duchess of Pembroke, Madeleine Valois, who was happily engaged in conversation with her older siblings and clinging her arm possessively around Nando's.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Tudor Rose: The Story of the Queen Who United a Kingdom and Birthed a Dynasty by Margaret Campbell Barnes, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, Henry VIII and his Court by Alison Weir, and inspiration from GOT and BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII.**


	26. Chapter 25

**A/N: Sorry for the typo in chapter 24, it should have read Prince Arthur's thirty first birthday, not twenty first. He is currently thirty one.**

**Sources: Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, and the Tudors by John Guy, inspiration from GOT, Princess of Montpensier, and BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII.**

* * *

"Bess, my dear!" implored her father, who could not bear see such disappointment upon so young a face. At the sound of his voice, bereft of all but love, her fear eased and she hurled herself into his arms.

"C-couldn't they have waited before I made my promise to …" She stopped. She could not say his name, any of their names lest she risked their exposure and their lives would be in danger. She sobbed against his breast. This was so unfair!

* * *

Katherine comforted her daughter and told her the same advice she told Catherine, that she would not be marrying for love but yet it would be a great union. "How do you know?" Asked Bess indignant confessing to her mother what she had promised to Thomas and Henry.

Her mother slapped her and then gripped her arms, shaking her hard. "You will forget about those two boys and wear the best dress that you got and marry your cousin. Now you are not going far and you have the best councilor in your retinue, your Aunt, the King's mother, Her Grace, Margaret. She will be your eyes and ears in the Scottish court and she knows most of the nobles there. You listen to her as if you would your own mother. No!" she rephrased, "as if you would the Lady Derby, do you understand?" She asked lastly in a harsh voice.

"Y-yes mother." Elizabeth said and nodded, shedding more tears of misery that Katherine wiped with her handkerchief.

With a final command her mother sent her to her seamstress to take her measurements and barked orders at her older sisters to make sure that their sister did not try something foolish. Bess was not Mary, but she was known for her impertinence.

* * *

Bess could not wait to be out of this horrid dress. After the proxy marriage with the Duke of Albany –who represented his nephew, the King of Scotland- she bellowed at her sisters and ladies that she was tired of ceremony and retired to her chambers, not even bothering to attend the feast in her honor.

Her father made excuses for her and Katherine was growing tired of them, she went straight to her daughter's chambers and ordered her out but she refused so she sent word to the one woman whom she knew Bess would not refuse.

Elizabeth was forced out of her rooms by her great-grandmother, Lady Derby. She literally took her by the arm with a strength and attitude that both shocked her Bess and her mother. She was redressed in her former gown, green velvet with a golden headdress laden with pearls and rubies; French, as her Aunt Margaret, now mother-in-law, knew her son and Albany would prefer it.

Albany had come from France. He had shown deep respect for his former rival, the Dowager Queen of Scots, Margaret Tudor. She explained to him as they sat waiting for the King's bride and future Consort, that Princess Elizabeth would need getting used to.

"That is why my lady is for." He said, still in his French thick accent. "I was particularly curious on my return how the Princess was doing, if I must be frank that is why I accepted your son's and Arran's proposal to stand in the bridegroom's stead."

"You may speak bluntly, you always did. I would not like it any other way. Reminds me of old times to be honest." Margaret said, smirking.

"Always straight to the point. I wouldn't like my lady any less than what she is now." Albany remarked, echoing Margaret's words. "Cheers, the bride has shown herself at last."

"I warn you my dear Duke, she has been cloistered with jewels and just about every little whim her father has given into; she might not show herself receptive to my son's affections at first."

"It will not be any different from the Princess Madeleine. Her father was very worried with all her gaiety and vanity that she would not know how to behave herself as consort of a younger son, but I see," his eyes shifted to the Valois Princess, the present Duchess of Cambridge, whose dress made her baby bump evident. She had no trouble engaging in conversation with her husband's older sisters. The only people who did not seem to be enjoying themselves were the older couple of the Prince and Princess of Wales, Arthur and Anna of Cleves; and of course, the Princess of Kent who did not bother to show her animosity towards the French Princess.

Poor girl, thought Albany who guessed her animosity really stemmed from envy more than resentment that she had replaced her dear old friend.

"She clearly enjoys herself." He said returning his glance to the former Queen of Scots. "A toast for our countries' everlasting peace."

"A toast." Margaret Tudor said, drinking from her cup.

"Elizabeth, we missed you." She said when Bess sat in between them. She barely looked at the Duke of Albany, the King's Uncle, John Stuart.

"My lady, Your Grace." She said to each.

"Call me mother, we will share more ties now that you are marrying my son." She said, her voice filled with mirth at the thought of seeing her son again. What was best of this arrangement was that Elizabeth was marrying her son and it was something she was eternally grateful to her brother, because this strengthened the ties between England and Scotland and kept the Stuart throne strictly within Tudor power.

Katherine eyed the interactions between her sister-in-law, the Duke of Albany, and her daughter. Margaret still had a heart for politics and she could not blame the woman for wanting to be included. After many years of standing in the background, force to rely on others, especially her husbands and her brother to legitimize her hold on her son's throne; she finally had the opportunity to regain what was once hers. If God forbid her son died, she could claim the regency of her grandchild and this time no one would stop her. Arthur and the Lords having seen their folly in supporting Albany then her husband against her, would not repeat their folly and fully lend their support should the occasion come.

She glanced to her youngest daughter who was doing a great job masking her true feelings. Katherine knew that look. It was the look her mother wore when she received the reports of her husband's infidelities. Her saintly mother bore it all with stoicism and grace, but she never forgot about them and she had a way to exact vengeance, both from her husband and his mistresses.

* * *

Agnes let go of her father's hand and followed her Uncle to the gardens. He did not notice, his eyes were fully invested on the Princess of Kent which glanced sadly at her swollen belly. Any day now, she would hear her father saying.

Why couldn't he tell the Princess of his true feelings, Agnes wondered? Who was the falcon to command obedience from the wolf? The Seymours had far nobler ancestry than what the Howards and Boleyns claimed. And her father had never been afraid of taking what he wanted; he took her from her grandfather's care when her grandfather refused to give her to his son-in-law. What made the Princess of Kent so different?

She found her Uncle sitting in a bench. "May I join you?" She asked him and hearing no objection, she sat taking her mother's cross from her neck. "Here, take it."

"Agnes, child, this is yours."

"No, 'twas my mother and her mother's mother, she told my father before she died that it was her most valuable possession."

"Then it should be yours-"

"No, it's yours. My mother used it every day until she died, she told my grandfather she prayed to the saints that I would be born and the saints heeded her call so here I am; her mother did the same and it is the reason why my Uncle John survived childbirth. It's the cross of both life and death; it's given only to the most important people, the people dearest to your heart." Agnes explained thrusting it again into his hand, and closing it into a fist with both her hands so he would not let it go. "Take it, it is yours now."

"You can pray for it for a new bride." She said, putting his fist against his chest where his heart was.

Thomas kissed her forehead and embraced her. "Thank you Agnes, but I think it will be long before your Uncle finds someone that especial."

"Perhaps not, papa is looking to the Princess you know and if something should happen, I can ask him to look a royal bride for you or someone as beautiful as Princess Bess. Grandfather says that everything happens for a reason." The little girl said as she closed her eyes and she imagined that future, unable to notice how stiff Thomas became at the mention of her grandfather.

Your grandfather is a fool, he wanted to say but wouldn't. In spite of what the man had done, he was still her grandfather and Ned didn't want to alienate her daughter from her other family.

Each time Thomas More would have sprung up to join them in Hertfordshire, Ned would always keep his daughter apart. It was no secret among the Mores that Ned's religious sympathies lay elsewhere and that Thomas, an ardent partisan of the old faith, did not want his granddaughter contaminated with his ways. He believed he was God's emissary and while Thomas did not deny the man's genius, the man was, had been, and always would be a religious fanatic.  
He fought his brother in the courts. Had his favorite pupil, the late Duke of York, Henry Tudor lived, he would have influenced the King to intercede on Thomas More's behalf and have the courts grant him his granddaughter's custody but as it was, it went the other way around. Thomas More's only support had been the Queen. But the Queen could do little since this was her husband's court; her husband was the King, master and commander of the realm, not her. And the court's decision ruling in favor of his brother made that very clear.

He ruffled her loose hair, and kissed her forehead after she opened her eyes. "Mayhap one day." Thomas said and walked with her back to the feasting ceremony steeling himself as Henry Howard, when he saw the Princess sitting at the high table, fighting hard to avoid their gaze and the tears that nearly fell down her eyes.

* * *

The roads turned even icier in February. Mary's birthday. She grimaced. She asked her mother to send a letter to George on her behalf, knowing that her mother still wrote to her Aunt Catherine who was at present, the Queen of France. Her mother outright said no, her father would not like that and he had trusted George with an important mission –to make certain of the renewal of the Auld Alliance between France and Scotland and keeping both of those countries' friendship.

* * *

Noticing their great-granddaughter's indignation at being spurned and her mother turning her attention elsewhere, the youngest and noblest of the two, the Lady Derby, sent her to an errand. "And don't come back until you find it." She whispered in her ear, patting her back. She and the Lady Wydeville watched their favorite Princess go. Lady Wydeville felt that small gust of indignation her favorite great-granddaughter felt months earlier when she had started getting heavy with child, at seeing her husband eye other women. And while his eyes always turned back to her, she could not help but despise the thought of having to compete for her husband's affection.

She knew what it was to be spurned, to be seen as second, first only when your husband tires of his giggling wenches. She was not naïve, she knew this boy used her and the Lady Derby as an excuse to account for his affairs, because his wife had refused to send them away when he asked her to. If he had been wiser he would have enforced his rights on her and boxed her ears until they bled, but George was not only a whoremonger and poet, he was also a fool.

Where have all the good men gone? Elizabeth thought chuckling.

"What are you so cheerful about?" the Lady Derby asked, not bothering to eye her older companion.

"Our work," responded Elizabeth, "The Princess shows herself more and more receptive to the idea of an empty bed with no hawk to peck her in the lips."

"Pretty good isn't it?" Elizabeth asked when the Lady Derby remained unresponsive. "All our work has led to this. The wolf and the lion."

"Humph!" Said the Lady Derby at last putting down her silver goblet, "You got it all wrong, we did nothing for them, they did all the work while we were happy spectators."

"You believe it was fate then, that brought them together?"

"Nay, God." The Lady Derby said simply, giving a simple smile that seemed colder than any serious expression Elizabeth had seen on her.

The former Queen shook her head. For all her cleverness, there was one thing that she did not understand of Margaret Beaufort and that was her faith. And Elizabeth did not need to understand for her pain was nothing compared to what the Lady Derby had lived through. Deprived of a mother's love, her father blamed for Henry VI's madness and accused of manipulating him along with his Queen, Margaret of Anjou, her family name –the Beaufort name- in ruins; the King had no choice but to send her to the Duke of Suffolk to live as his ward and then he sold her off to his half-brother, the older Tudor offspring of his mother and her Welsh squire –Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond.

Her marriage had been anything but happy. She was only twelve and he was four and twenty and besides their ambition, they had nothing in common, yet both had obligations to fulfill and so when she had informed him he had been with child he commended her and wrote to her that he hoped she would do her duty and give birth to a boy.

Margaret looked down at her plate. Vaguely she remembered his face; fair of skin, dark brown hair, arched eyebrows and with dark grey eyes. Her son had taken after him and yet almost none of his descendants did except for a few. In Mary, Lady Wydeville saw herself, but in the Princess of Kent, Lady Derby saw her son.

* * *

Mary took a good look at herself in the mirror before she returned to the great feast. Her sister would not be leaving until next month for Scotland and that meant that they would have to host their guest, the Duke of Albany for another month. He did not mind, he liked England far better than Scotland. He confessed to her and her Aunt, that he dreaded his return.

Through the good times and the bad, he had always had the Scottish lords to contend, those who were ant-English, partisans of the French who supported him in the hopes he would attack the English borders, and those who were pro-English and favored an invasion of England to Scotland. There was no in between.

What a pity, she had told their prolonged guest, and expressed her wish she could go alongside with him and her family to make his stay more comfortable. The Duke remarked that nothing would make his visit to Scotland more bearable then remarked to her mother that she was fortunate to have a daughter so graceful and filled with goodwill. Right in her sister's presence, but her sister did not seem to mind. She was focused instead on the two men below who were the true object of her desire.

Oh Bess, thought Mary. You don't know what you are getting into. But then who was she? She had enjoyed many nights with her husband, sharing their bed with others so his love for her would never wane. And while she found these pleasures exquisite, she had always found something missing while engaging in them.

She caressed her stomach. She missed being pregnant simply by the praise she would receive by the women, including her mother and grandmother. Elizabeth of York often praised women based on their fecundity and their lineage and Mary was possessor of both. Her last child had been another girl yet this one was bigger and with a healthier skin color than her last. She resembled Anne Marie in her almond-shaped eyes but unlike her older siblings who were either too Plantagenet or too Boleyn, her youngest daughter had none of those traits. Instead, she was pure Wydeville.

Mary's smile widened as she took the pins and let her hair fall down in cascades of wild fire to her waist.

Ned who'd just entered after having been sent by the odious Lady Wydeville to the Lady Derby's room to bring her book hours; was stunned by what she saw.

The Princess' hair fell loose all the way to her back. She was completely beguiling, the sensual image of a angel. No! He thought. A goddess of fire come down to earth to torment mortal men.

He was careful not to make himself heard. The Princess thankfully, was so invested in her reflection that she hardly noticed him.

As she began to unlace the back of her dress and it fell to the floor, Edward got to appreciate the shape of her breasts and the contours of her body as she passed her hand around her figure.

Not wanting to wait any longer, he cleared his throat and she turned, breath caught in her throat as he approached. "What are you doing here?" She could think of nothing else to say.

He did not answer. His eyes gazed at her with complete desire. This was the royal midget, the dwarf, the thorn in his spine, the bane of his existence, the … "Goddess" he thought aloud coming to stand beside her. He then began to walk in a circle gazing at her as a predator gazes at his prey.

Mary's lips trembled and so did his. He stopped circling her and stood still, she hugged herself tighter, covering her breasts as he extended his arms and gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer. Her lips were pursed and she bit her lower lip to keep them closed but it hurt and she whimpered and in that tiny second she opened her lips to express her pain, he took them and locked them against his for a kiss.


	27. Chapter 26

Mary's heart hammered nervously as he continued to ravage her mouth, finally she had to pull away. "No, please go." She begged but Ned did not listen. He looked down at her then up from her sex to her breasts to her eyes.

"Please, they will find us."

"I don't care." He lied smoothly, gripping her shoulders and claiming her mouth for a second time.

There was no one in the palace at this hour except in the banquet hall and everyone there had been told to stay away from the deserted halls and the King's grandmothers' chambers. Damn those women, thought Ned. They had planned this whole thing and he couldn't be happier at how their plans had turned out.

Mary's anguish turned into pleasure as he fought for dominance over her mouth and she yielded all at once. His hands slid down to her buttocks, pushing their bodies closer.

They pulled apart and gasped for breath. Her eyes blazed with the fury she dared not show until now. All the times she had been spurned, humiliated, and brought into submission manifested all at once through her actions. She threw herself savagely at him, slamming him hard against the wall. Her hands began searching him until they reached his breeches and she began to unlace him.

"All of it." She said. Ned recognized it was not a question but a command. He took his chain, a mark of his elevated status as a Viscount and threw it across the room. It did little noise. His other clothes came off and he stepped out of his breeches after she unlaced him.

"Now." She commanded in a husky voice, her hungry gazing upon him.

"My lady-" he started, that part of him that was still ruled by his head rather than his groin which at present was erect with his desire.

"Now." She said more forcefully crushing her lips against his.

All reasonable thought gone except for one, and that was that they should keep discretion at all times and remembering in whose room they were, he opened his eyes and began to search about for the right place to celebrate their new union.

He pushed her away, she opened her mouth to protest but when she followed her gaze, her lips curved into a wicked smile. "Now." She repeated and he surprised her even more by taking her in his arms and dumping her on the window seat next to her great-grandmother's bed and resumed their kiss. "Now." She said over and over, anxious to become one with him, compare him to George as he compared her to the others.

He watched her, fascinated, particularly as he realized almost immediately that she had absolutely no idea how sensuous she was to him. To her this was a game, just another game like the many twisted ones she forced herself to play with George to please him. But he wanted more than to please her, he wanted to love her, cherish her, make her feel adored, and worshiped like the goddess she was.

He felt his organ grow larger but before he could accomplish his greatest desire and thrust inside her he went south, spread her legs, almost forcibly, and entered her sheath. His soft pink tongue sent her mind reeling. She closed her eyes, nipping her lower lip to keep from screaming. When she couldn't bear it any longer she released her lip and opened her mouth but no screams came.

She let out a long sigh as he came up. Her entire body was shaking, drenched in cold sweat; her face was a scarlet red. She asked what was that he did with his tongue but the only response she got was a strong kiss erasing whatever doubt she might have had about his performance and to further erase those thoughts, he slid his hands down to her tiny wais and feeling her hands clawing on his back he came forward and thrust.

"Beautiful," the elder Seymour wolf murmured in her ear, whispering with each thrust soothing words to ease the pain she might be feeling but Mary felt no such thing. It was like a drug and she was hooked, digging her nails harder each time he thrust harder and harder. And at last the moment of truth came when he began to piston in her and left a trail of long, slow kisses from her neck to her breasts to her neck, marking, her suckling on her skin until his teeth bit down on her neck.

At one point she cried out and she wasn't certain whether it was from the hurt of his bite or the ecstasy she felt by the length of his passage or the feel of his hot seed into her womb.

Again, and again, and yet again his lips took claim on her gentle, white skin until they found their way back to her own, silencing her cries.

Suddenly hearing the heavy footsteps of what he assumed to be the owner of these chambers from the antechamber, he stopped and painfully withdrew. Mary looked questioningly at him, hurt that he had stopped so soon but what had seemed so soon to her had been an eternity to Ned. It had been as if he had died a thousand deaths and lived a thousand lives and come back to life again raised by Mary, her messiah, calling him back to life like Jesus to Lazarus.

The late King's mother and former Countess of Richmond and present Lady Derby, cleared her throat and gave a soft yet firm knock on the door. She lived simply. Her chambers were not luxurious as the other royal members of their family. Indeed, Lady Derby lived simply because she wanted it that way and because she saw it as a necessity. God, she often preached, sent His only son to live in simplicity to learn the true meaning of sacrifice to give himself completely (in mind, body, and soul) to his great father's will without anger or frustration; so therefore, all men must live the same in the hopes that they can obtain salvation.

It was what Mary's late Aunt and namesake called "fear of vexation", "fear of hell"; her Aunt Margaret though had a more appropriate name for it "buying your way into heaven". She did not believe in God, not in the way her great-grandmother did anyway, but she was a strict follower of the laws of the old Church. Her mother had taken a particular interest in her education when she reached the tender age of nine after it became clear that she would never be the pious and simple Princess that Master Vives thought she ought to be. She hired new tutors; among them was Doctor Linacre, her father's physician who was also a renowned humanist and linguist professor. He had taught her all she knew about letters and her love of nature stemmed from him. She was happy when her mother brought him back to the schoolroom and there was a vain reason for this. Other than she had excelled in all her tutors' lessons, Linacre was the only ones of her tutors whose praised extended so high that it was higher than her siblings.

Lady Derby cleared her throat, bringing Mary from her thoughts.

"The Lord Beauchamp's brother," started she, her voice clearing all doubts from her mind that they could be I trouble. "Has told the King, your father, that his brother was not feeling well and had to live the feast early. His niece is there with him, Lady Wydeville and I thought it appropriate she should spend the night there to avoid any gossip."

Mary looked from the door to Edward Seymour. What a fool! Of course this had all been her great-grandmothers' scheme. Suddenly she felt the need of smacking her head against the window. She spun around to check on the place where they had sat. There was no stain on the cushioned seat. The only evidence of their coupling lay in the clothes lying all over the Lady Derby's bedchamber.

In the midst of all this chaos Mary giggled as she suddenly remembered what it was she had come here for, her great-grandmother's book of hours.

Ned did not bother to ask what she was giggling about when his mind began to work on quickly and gathering all his clothes, he dressed up and did the same for her. All the meanwhile the Lady Derby stood outside, not moving a muscle, patiently waiting for the lovers to come out so she could give out more instructions.

* * *

"Wait, will I see you again?"

"Nay, it is better we should not."

"Please, that thing you did … I-I-" she stumbled on her words. "It's my first time."

His eyebrows knit. "Are you sure?" He thought George Boleyn, a man of the world with all his experience would have introduced her to such pleasures.

"No." She confessed, "I admit there were times when George tried but … well," she shrugged, "there was never enough time."

She took his hand and grasped it before her great-grandmother cleared her throat and led her back to the banquet Hall. "Will I see you then?"

Damn, he swore under his breath. He promised this would be one-time-thing but seeing her lusty and almost needy gaze, he agreed.

"When?" Was all he could ask as Lady Derby walked with them out of her apartments.

"Whenever you have time." She teased but her great-grandmother rolling her eyes, placed her hand on her shoulder then gripped it tightly and said, ignoring her favorite great-granddaughter wince of pain, "Mary this is not a game. I made enough excuse for you tonight. It will not be long before the feast ends, I suggest you say all you have to say and be done with it."

"But lady great-grandmother this was your creation, yours and Lady Wydeville."

"Yes well, we did not predict it would take you so long. Ladies in my time were usually more frigid and cared only about self-interest so everything they would have to do would be more hush-hush and there would be less gossip except with your great-grandmother and her husband of course, your great-grandfather, Edward the fourth."

"Great-grandmother, that is not a thing you say to your great-granddaughter!"

"You started it dear with mention of our plans." Lady Derby said. Mary looked away hiding her blush. Margaret shook her head. She did not understand it, for someone so similar to the former Yorkist Queen, she was so shy. Aye, it is that Boleyn's fault, she told herself. The falcon has taken his claws on our dearest lioness' head and planted silly notions of chivalry and maidens in need of rescue. Bah! What do women need for that? Women who believed in those tales were stupid and seeing Mary so in taken with this man that even now she could not help but plant kisses on his neck, leaving her mark as well; she knew her not to belong to that kind.

"Away with you two! You will have plenty of time to resume your lovemaking."

"But when great-grandmother? Lord Beauchamp here does not seem to think we can meet again since he refuses to give me a location."

"Is that so Lord Beauchamp? Pity, I thought your family's motto was bound to obey and serve. If I remember correctly, it is the motto all you wolves preach every time you come into our service."

"It is Madame but you are mistaken, the animal of our house is a peacock."

"Aye that's true, a proud peacock but your father adopted a wolf and Wulf Hall is after all named after one."

"True but-"

"And if I also remember correctly your father boasted that Seymours were very loyal, 'loyal to boot', he said." Lady Derby stated, grinning as he saw the man out of words. "Do not be scared my lord, I don't bite but you do and from what I see, hard. You have a peculiar way of showing your love." She said, her eyes pointing in the direction of her great-granddaughter's neck.

Not being very vain but the occasional indulgence when it was well-meant, made him feel proud of his accomplishments.

Lady Derby helped her great-granddaughter cover her battle scars by adjusting her pearls.

"I am bound to obey and to serve." He said eloquently repeating his family's motto and confirming what the Lady Derby had said earlier.

"And you are rather obliged to bend to the wolf, are you not?" She asked Mary.

"Nay lady great-grandmother, the lioness will never bow to the wolf or lesser creatures but Lord Beauchamp is not a lesser creature." She said smiling warmly at the Viscount, her eyes dancing with mischief.

* * *

"Where is Mary?" Katherine asked her husband whom she had not spoken except the occasional exchanges. Her husband shrugged. This was supposed to be her birthday celebration and yet she was nowhere to be seen, his wife asked again but he told her he knew as much as she did. She suddenly grew worried but to her great relief her daughter appeared. Not one of the courtiers seemed to mind her absence, all of them more interested in their conversation and her dalliances than the Princess' presence. It was not like as if the royals ever came and talked to them anyways, except when they wanted something, money, men, or their women. The last which nobles were only too eager to give.

"My lord, my lady." She said to each of her parents, curtsying to them before sitting down in between her mother and her sister Bess who seemed to grow more miserable with each passing minute.

Katherine asked her where she was. Mary lied perfectly and repeated exactly what her great-grandmother told her. "I was at the stables. I was looking over the mares, the ones you and my lord father gave me."

"But Mary, we were hoping to surprise you on the morrow."

"But I wanted to see them mother, and you always say that a little air might do me good. After all, after Cathy I think I haven't done anything except to sulk and sit down."

Katherine smiled at her daughter and cupped her chin with her two jeweled fingers. "That, you are very right my darling heart. You do need your exercise. Perhaps you and I could go on a picnic tomorrow, just you and me." She offered.

Mary nodded eagerly. It had been an eternity, she felt, since she had gone on a picnic and she had much to tell her mother, much that she wanted to confess and much she was still unsure whether she should keep it a secret or not.

The following morrow before everyone woke up Elizabeth visited Thomas Seymour's chambers. His niece was a heavy sleeper so she did not hear the Princess' footsteps or the sound of the door closing as she entered her uncle's bedchamber.

"I missed you." He confessed as they undressed.

"I missed you as well," she said returning his grin. "My sister was missing for more than an hour yesterday."

"Oh?"

"I know she was with your brother Tom. I am not stupid, I notice the small things that escape others." She told Tom but what she really meant was 'I am not as stupid as the others seem to think, including you'. The accusation was clear in the way she looked at him with a hard gaze.

He told her to lie down and he kissed her slowly, spreading her legs. Bess moaned as she felt him come.

"My brother was with your sister," he spoke after he thrust harder in her, quickening his pace to bring forth their climax, knowing that everyone would wake up soon.

"It is no wonder why then, uh, she, uh, the Lady D-der-uh-by," Another thrust cut her off, and another, and yet another as he prepared for their joint climax. "sent your brother's poppet to you. It must-uh-uh-uh bother-uh-red you." She finished opening her eyes. Their gazes locked and a silent agreement came between them. "Do it." She commanded. She would never have the opportunity again to couple with the man she loved, the man who was about to take her most prized possession.

Not thinking twice, Thomas released and she bit her lip, preventing herself from screaming. She sighed as it was over and he withdrew from her.

"Does my sister love him?"

"I know none of that, but I know my brother loves her. Ned does nothing else but talk of how much she vexes him."

"He is that trustworthy of you?"

"Me? No, heavens no! But he confesses to Jane and my sister confesses to me in turn."

"Your family seems close-knit and yet like mine you all conspire against one another."

"And yet we will all remain here while you go far away to marry a man you are not likely to love now or ever." He declared grimly.

"Do you always do that? Kill the happiness of others by being deathly blunt."

"That is my brother's job, I am merely acting my part. I am the jester, the life of party."

She shook her head, chuckling. "I am going to miss you Tom, you are the only one I've been with, the only one I have given my heart to," She told him. Not even with Henry she had been this intimate. "And the only one as you my lord dearly put, I will ever love." She said after she dressed, still feeling his presence inside her.

"I am not a lord."

"_Not yet_ but you will be someday. My sister is after all known to be very generous and it won't be long before she finds herself in the marriage market again in search for another husband." She confided in him kissing him, "And when your brother rises you will rise with him ... my lord." She said lastly with a smile and kissed him, then she turned and left.

* * *

Madeleine found the Queen and Princess of Kent miles away from Westminster Palace. "Your Majesty! Sister!"

"Oh God, what is _she _doing here?" Mary asked, smiling and waving at her sister-in-law.

"Your brother sent her here."

"Who told him we were here?" Mary demanded, veiling her anger even more by a wider smile as Madeleine dismounted from her horse and approached them.

Katherine looked at her as if to say _'Who do you think?'_

Isabella of course!

Mary cursed her oldest sister and Henry too who no doubt had a part to play in this.

They made room on their blanket for Princess Madeleine who boasted on with her tight French clothes with her square neckline and exposed neck, that she was waiting for yet another child.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Wikipedia, notes, The Myth of Bloody Mary by Linda Porter, and Sister Queens by Julia Fox. Inspiration from GOT, ASOIAF by GRRM, Small, and Bernard Cornwell.**


	28. Chapter 27

As the days warmed to high summer the hammering of the outside world began to resume. June, 14th, 1534, only a day away, would be the day that London would be decked with pageantry as her granddaughter, Princess Elizabeth, made her exit to go to Scotland to wed her oldest grandson, King James V.

The Queen Dowager and the rest prepared the girl for her long and arduous journey that was filled with nothing but broken dreams on her part and great expectations from the rest.

The former Queen and mother of the present dynasty remembered when it had been her brother whose coronation everyone had been waiting. When she and her mother had ran for sanctuary along with her sisters, including baby Bridget and her brother Richard; they had waited for news of the country's late master's oldest son, her younger brother, Edward. Her mother had distrusted everyone, she thought seeking sanctuary would solve everything but it made things worse.

Richard Plantagenet, her uncle, the Duke of Gloucester self-styling himself the 'Protector' asked for her youngest brother, Richard, and her mother having no choice in the matter with the Abbot telling her what he heard from the Archbishop of Canterbury –that the Council had decided that he was too young for the Church's protection, he was not yet of the age when his soul could be tempted by the world's malice, therefore sanctuary was not necessary for him.

Her mother wept tears of misery but she would not let anyone see her. Bess heard her from her chamber as she prayed and did some of what her younger sister and best friend, Cecily, called 'sorcery'. It was no secret that they descended from the water goddess Melusina and in their blood flowed the magic of their great ancestress. When the last Lancaster sat on the throne of England, it had been said that her grandmother, the great Jacquetta, Dowager Duchess of Bedford, had conceived through means of witchcraft and her mother a witch like her, had used the devil's arts she learned from her grandmother to ensnare her father.

It was absurd of course but what was one more lie in the pot of lies her Uncle Richard had given the people?

She closed her eyes, her mind going back to that moment where they had learned of his treachery.

"You were right, Madame, and I am a blind artless fool." She admitted.  
"My father would have never believed this of Gloucester," mourned Elizabeth after her mother's black skirts swished angrily against the low box borders, stirring a bitter sweetness from their sun-drenched greenery, crying foul words against her Uncle, summoning all her anger against him, as if this could make a difference to what was happening in London.  
"It is bewildering to recall how he trusted him." Continued Elizabeth, unable to believe her Uncle could have gone this far. Her mother did and Elizabeth Wydeville raised her hands into the air and cursed him and wished death on him and all of his supporters.

The Queen Dowager opened her eyes. She returned her attention to the present. She took the brush lying on the Princess and Duchess of Pembroke's toilette and went to where she sat to brush her granddaughter-in-law's strawberry blond curls.

Madeleine clapped telling the former Princess of York everything about what had transpired in her afternoon with the Queen and Princess of Kent. "We ate biscuits and the Princesse is so fond of me, she complimented me on my skirts and headdress. Poor Marie, I think she is sad though. I offered to bake some cake for her but she refused. Is she all right grand maman, does she miss her husband still? George, his name, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness he does. You must be very careful not to mention him to her. She is very sensitive about it, especially since the birth of her last daughter."

"Sweet Jesus, I did not mean to be so inconsiderate. I shall make it up to her." She said decisively and spun around taking the brush from the Queen Dowager's hand and going to her antechamber, she ordered her ladies about her to dress her in her finest and bring the presents her father had sent her. "They will be hers now, now the Princesse, my sister, will not think badly of me." She said with an air of superiority that reminded Elizabeth so much of herself.

* * *

The following morrow as was planned, the younger Elizabeth traveled from London to Yorkshire making the occasional stops until she reached the border with Scotland where like her Aunt and mother-in-law, the Queen Dowager of Scotland, she waited for her bridegroom.

Margaret was transported thirty years back when she waited for James to make his entrance. Finally her son came and like his father before him, he made a chivalric entrance. Her son prostrated before her and she extended her hand for him to kiss.

"Princess Elizabeth, you are more beautiful than your portrait. You should be angry that Master Holbein did not do you, my sweet Guinevere, justice."

Elizabeth blushed. He spoke with chivalric tones and she felt her cheeks turn redder, if that was possible, when he came up and took her lips against his own. "Your Majesty, please, there are too many witnesses, what will they say?"

"They will tell the English Ambassador, Lord Dacre, that their Princess leaves England a happy one and enters Scotland a happy Queen." He turned to his mother and kissed both her cheeks. "Mother, it has been so long."

"It has my son. I am happy to see you pleased with your bride. Careful though, remember her house's sigils are lions, dragons, and dog. Respect her but don't love her."

"Her Grace speaks words of wisdom, you should listen to her nephew."

"Uncle." James said greeting the man who for many years had been his tutor, his mother's enemy, protector and at last before he before he parted, James' truest friend. He had helped secure his reign and spoke in his defense when nobody else would. He received him as a son would a father with a warm embrace.

John patted his nephew's back and after they disengaged they asked Elizabeth to come forward. "She will be a fine Queen, Your Majesty, the finest Scotland has yet had since your mother."

"Aye, I expect her to. I did not pay such a high price to be disappointed." He said and Elizabeth pretended to laugh, imitating the others.

The road to Sterling took longer than she had anticipated. Two weeks on the road, two weeks of pageantry and feigning self-enjoyment. Now the moment had arrived and she felt cold feet.

No, she steeled herself. I must be strong. I am of the House of Tudor, Tratasmara, and more importantly a Plantagenet through both my parents. I _must_ be strong.

She mustered a smile as she came to halt, standing on the left side of her bridegroom.

The ceremony began and toward the end the Church choir sang a special hymn in honor of their King and Queen-to-be:

*****Aleluia! Aleluia!

Who for humankind has bled, Now has risen from the dead

Aleluia! Aleluia!

Who for us fought death with life, Rose victorious from the strife.

Aleluia! Aleluia!

Mary, tell us, if you may, Tell what you saw where Jesus lay

Aleluia! Aleluia!

Angels standing there all bright, With winding cloths in Easter light.

Aleluia! Aleluia!

We know that Christ is risen indeed. Be with us, Lord, in every need.

As the music ended everyone sat again and listened to the Archbishop's words speaking about marriage and the sanctity of it. Elizabeth blinked as she heard the word _sanctity _and_ marriage_.

"Do you have the rings?" The Archbishop inquired breaking her chain of thought. She looked sideways at the cushion where the symbols of her impending doom lay. Thomas, she whispered in her mind.  
**I**_ will be strong_, she told herself and with an iron resolve, she turned to face her husband as he motioned for the ring bearer.

Taking the rings from their cushion, James was the first one to place the wedding ring on her finger, then said his vows:

*****"I, James, take thee to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

At her turn Elizabeth placed the other ring on his finger and promised the same before assenting to be his fair and majestic Guinevere at bed and at board, as he had declared the previous night.

After the ceremony they moved to the castle's great hall to celebrate the union. An endless night of feasting and drinking awaited her and Elizabeth prayed mentally that it would be so because she dreaded her bedding, but to her misfortune the bedding came sooner than what she had expected and every one of his nobles was shouting their King to take her to bed.

"Lie down." He told her after he took her chemise. The Bishop of Ely, and the rest of the high clergymen had consecrated their bed and consecrated them. He asked everyone out of the room as he thought this was a private affair and he didn't want her to pass through the same embarrassment his mother had passed when she bedded his father.

She did as she was told. What more could she do? She was his property now and was this not the fate of all women? To be traded for cattle for the advancement of me and in her case, for the sake of her country. She stopped questioning her father's judgment, such things were too complicated for her anyway. She was not Mary, she was not Isabella, she was not Catherine or Johanna, who enjoyed engaging in discussion about philosophical works, for her these things either were or they weren't. There was nothing in between and if there was, the concept was too complicated for Bess to understand.

As he came down and thrust himself upon her, Elizabeth suddenly remembered her time with Tom and how he had made her cry out in desire. As his body shook with desire, emptying himself inside her, Elizabeth suddenly remembered 'My maidenhead!' but such thoughts were forgotten as his final climax came and she forced her climax on him, hoping this would exhaust him.

It did, James disengaged from her and fell asleep. Elizabeth's mind working fast, she searched among her possessions for the goat's blood she had packed. Most of it was dry but it didn't give off any odd smells that could arouse suspicion. She opened the vial and emptied some of it on her thighs, on the sheets were part of his semen had fallen and some on his royal member so when he woke up all of the pieces would fit and everyone would say that she came to the King of Scotland a virgin.

* * *

Mary moaned at Edward's continual thrusts against her tiny body. After four children, three pregnancies she still retained her majestic figure and it was one of God's most marvelous creations, thought he with another thrust, and another until her nails were gripping hard on the wood.

The beasts next to them, successfully trapped, stared at them oddly, some of them becoming aroused by their owners coupling, they began to squeal violently and fight against their prisons.

"Elizabeth, uh, writes to me that uh, it has been confirmed …uh, she is with child… uh…" she gave a long sigh as he withdrew and told her to lie on her back; she inverted her position and he came down tasting her love juices that she'd been withholding waiting anxiously for this moment. "Ahhh! Ahhhhh! Oh yes Ned don't stop … Ned!" She said squealing, howling, roaring his name and her cries then died down as he came up and pushed his large manhood against her; feeling the passage of his length she closed her eyes, overtaken by crazy laughter as he splurged his seed inside her.

He ravaged her tongue inside and out as he savagely withdrew from her and lunged himself again making her cry out harder until her cries died out and she could feel nothing but his hot seed traveling inside her, taking root in her fertile womb …

* * *

Madeleine tapped her fingers against the oak table. "Where is the Princesse?" She demanded, she started to get very irritated with her sister's disregard for protocol. "I should think the Princess of Kent was more punctual." She said, the last word thick with her French accent which Anna's German ladies could not help but scowl at.

Madeleine and her French ladies paid them no heed. "Ah at last the Princesse is here. Sister!" She wrapped her arms around Mary whose face was of a livelier color and her cheeks redder than usual,Anna noted.

The Princess of Wales cleared her throat and Madeleine dumbly said "Oh yes! Sit, sit sister, we have loads to talk, first is first. I am enceinte again!"

Her ladies clapped with their mistress, everyone in the room was engulfed by laughter and joy, everyone that is except the Princess of Wales and her sister-in-law, the Princess of Kent.

"Well?" She asked leaning forward as she sat in her hair, patting her belly where now lay, she boasted, the next Lord of England. "Are you not going to congratulate your sister, sister?"

Mary's eyes traveled south to her flat stomach. No life lay there, this was just another ruse from their dear Princesse to gain attention and their approval. However Anna, who knew of these things very well, having been close to her elder sister Sybilla when she had been with child, and having had many children already herself, knew that was not the case.

Her baby bump was very evident and the Duchess of Pembroke made it more evident by the tight French clothes she wore, her slashed sleeves being the only thing puffed in her gown. "You are going to be Aunts again and I have talked to Nando, he wants you ladies to be the godmothers this time!"

God, is she really that stupid? Please take me away from this idiot and her army of airheads. She thought she was going to kill herself, she couldn't stand another minute listening to this idiot. Here she was a French Princess whose only accomplishments were her looks and her lineage, and yes she had brought Nando a son but so what? Anne had brought Nando not one but two healthy boys and had it not been for his father meddling in his son's affairs, those sons would still be in the line of succession and one of them destined to become the Duke of Pembroke someday.

Now that was not to be, thought Mary grimly, her lips pursed until they formed a thin line, looking sourly at Madeleine.

"So?" Madeleine asked again, her tone verging on impatience as her lips began to quiver, irritated by the Princess' lack of response.

Before Anna could respond in hopes to prevent something they would both regret, Mary spoke.

"No."

**_"No?"_** Madeleine asked, shocked that the Princesse had refused her offer. She put her wine goblet down and went to Mary who along with Anna stood and turned to leave. She stopped them blocking their exit. "Marie, I would love to know why you are so mean to me. I am only trying to help. Has the Prince of Wales spoke of me? Nando tells me of his concern for the Prince's sudden alienation of his children to ours." Madeleine stated turning to the Princess of Wales, holding her hands. "Sister, we are sisters are we not? You are a stranger in a strange land just as moa and I need my elders' guidance and you are my elder sisters so guide me. What must I do for you to like me."

Anna finally understanding Mary's frustration with this chit, wrenched herself free of her grasp and said with a cold voice and smile, "Let us go and leave this place before you wreck another family. Your Highness." Anna bid her farewell and bowed before her as appropriate to someone befitting her rank and lineage and Mary followed her. Madeleine stepped aside and together both Princesses exited the room while the French Princess stood still watching them leave, stunned by what had just happened.

Her French ladies flocked to their mistress screaming foul insults in their native tongue. "Do not despair Your Highness, they will come around."

"Your Highness, you have another Lord of England in your belly, you will give plenty more than they can ever hope to give."

"It is no secret that the Princess of Kent's marriage to the Duke of Wiltshire is on the rocks and they engage in lewd acts, the common people who serve her talk and they talk well." Another, the more gossipy of the three, chimed in. "It is futile to dwell in these matters Your Highness. The Princesses are just bitter cold. It is well known that Germans are all cold and angry."

"It is known." Agreed the second.

Madeleine said nothing. Nothing they said could make her feel any better.

How dare they? Thought she. They spurned her. Her! A Princess of the blood! A Princess of France! More royal blood flowed through her veins than they. The Tudors descended from Welsh and usurpers as well as the Tratasmaras who tried to cover up the illegitimacy of their ancestor, Henry II –who descended from Alfonso XII and a royal harlot, Leonor Guzman who, it was common knowledge, played a part in killing the rightful heir of the royal house of Burgundy, her son's predecessor, Peter, the first of his name- by supporting the Catholic Church and enforcing its will upon the poor people of Castile.

Madeleine gritted her teeth and squeezed her hands turning them into fists. No, she would not tell on them.

She would plant her vengeance slowly and carefully, just as her father and Aunt Marguerite had taught her. Patience her mother said, is a virtue. And revenge her father and Aunt had stipulated was a dish best served cold.

* * *

"What took you so long?" Ned asked when everyone had gone to bed and she went out for a night stroll. She found him on the stables, tending to her mare.

She shook her head as they started to undress. "There was such an uproar in my lord father's privy chambers. I think he is angry with me and my Her Highness Anna."

"Because you spurned the air headed bitch?" Mary cocked her head, raising her eyebrows, surprised that he had heard. Ned laughed. "Sweetheart, there isn't everyone in this bloody castle that doesn't know of your animosity towards the little chit."

"She is not a chit. She is a Princess of France and I will have you know I do not hate her. I do not like her but I do not hate her. It is just her attitude."

"Oh, and why is that?" He asked as she knelt down and buried her fingers in the hay, preparing for the entrance of his male lance.

"I just find her annoying that is all. Ugh, her pretense that she wants to be everyone's friend and being so innocent, I don't buy into it for one second … ah … ahhhhh!" She bit her lower lip as he pushed harder into her. He withdrew and told her to lie on her back, repeating the same routine they had followed for the past three months.

Mary had been careful not fall pregnant. Her great-grandmothers had been giving her a special tea that prevented pregnancy but as of late she had been worried. Her courses had stopped and she had spoken to them about it. They told her not worry. They reminded her that George would be coming home any day now and when he did, she must be certain to lie with him, no matter how unpleasant the experience.

She didn't like the idea of lying to George. He had been so good to her and she still cared for him, but the experiences she'd been introduced with Ned were beyond anything previously experienced. She wanted more and more.

As his tongue continued to explore the walls of her sweet cavern, Mary closed her eyes and let Morpheus take her. It was no problem for Ned who knew her body would continue to respond to his movements. As he came up and thrust in her she felt her body move out of her own volition and heard her mumble in her sleep, "Ned… Ned … more, please." Her voice slurred.

He gave a wicked grin. "Your wish is my command my lady." He said and emptied himself inside her.

* * *

"My love." Asked George reaching their marriage bed, caressing her face with his thumb. He could tell that she had another sleepless night. The Queen told her she spent most of her time doing charity work, helping her distribute alms and attending her father's council of women's education daily to make sure that the money was being used for the new women's colleges her mother had sprung up.

Mary stirred and turned her back, begging for one more hour. George laughed softly and mistook this as a plea to her mother and kissed her brow. Noticing it was hot she told her women to prepare a cold bath for her and give her wine when she woke up.

"I am back my love and I am not leaving." He declared as he took her lips into his own. She did not respond. Strange, thought he, but he was so overcome by his happiness of being back in England that he thought none of it. He kissed her on both of her rosy cheeks and then left her.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, *Royal Weddings by Emily Brand, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, notes, and *Catholic Hymnal ceremony. Inspiration from GOT, A Song of Ice and Fire saga by GRRM, BBC's Shadow in the Tower and Six Wives of Henry VIII.**


	29. Firebrand

"How is London?" she asked the newly arrived to Court, Gertrude Somerset. Along with her other siblings she was new to Court and she needed her brother to chaperone her at all times. Her brother Harold was with them at all times. Eventually his father grew tired of his company around his daughters, it was sending the wrong message. He didn't want his daughters to give the impression they were dependable and they were not. Like his wife and her Hapsburg relations, they were strong and independent with a mind of their own.

"It is agreeable so far." Gertrude said, putting pins on her hair to put on her snood, then she put on her French headdress. "Mama loves these," she said starting a casual conversation, "I do not. They make me look too tall and papa already thinks I am too tall for my age."

"Nonsense, you are of an average height. I should very much like to be your height if truth be told. I am often called the royal midget by my sisters."

"Oh pooh!" The thirteen year old said. "They are just jealous and so is that French hussy! Everyone knows she only married your brother, my cousin because the King distrusted your friend. Poor Mistress Stanhope, I stopped by the priory last week before I came here with my family. Such disgrace the King, your father, has brought down on her. And what was her crime?" She demanded with an indignant voice. "Have Queens not be found guilty of the same crime? Mother had Harold not nine months after their marriage, but five!" She and Mary laughed.

Mary believed she would love her cousin's company very much. Not long after they had become acquainted she and the other Somerset girls were distributed among the higher royal women.  
Gertrud went into the service of the Princess of Wales, and the rest went into Mary's. She did not enjoy Emma or Philippa as she did Gertrude and she was a bit jealous that Anna had gotten her while she was stuck with the –yet loyal but- wilder sisters.

* * *

"You do not go in and nobody comes out unless the coast is clear, do you understand?" Meg Douglas told her younger cousins. They nodded, excited to be part of this conspiracy. It was like an adventure, they whispered to one another, giggling.

Meg rolled her eyes and told them to guard their cousin's bedchamber doors. As they were told, nobody came in or out until it was dark and the moon was full and glowing, illuminating Mary's head on the other side of the apartment. The room she and Meg were guarding.

Stupid Mary, thought Meg. Then again, could she fault her cousin for falling in love with a dangerous power-hungry, ambitious, yet handsome wolf? No.

Mary was her own person and Meg admired her for that. She admired few people; always used to being around women who criticized other women, bad-talked other women for not agreeing with their views, religious or secular, the latter which tended to be on men. Mary was one of the few who cared naught of these things. She cared not for religion or men (except her lecherous falcon and her loyal golden wolf) and she never assumed despite her scholarship and high position to be better than anybody and she detested everyone who did.

Meg envied her. Her eye had roved as of late to one Thomas Howard who was the late Earl of Surrey's younger half-brother. Meg could not help but cringe every time her mother wrote to her about marriage. She knew this did not make her seem like the best person in the world but she wished her mama would not return from Scotland in a long time, that way it would give her enough time to convince her Aunt and Uncle to marry her to Sir Thomas Howard.

If George could be raised to Duke, then Thomas could be raised as well. She did not expect anything big, she was not a King's daughter after all but her mother was the Queen Dowager of Scotland and her father had once been one of the most powerful lairds of Scotland before his final treachery with that hussy Janet Stuart. She and her father had been living of her mother's lands and rents and when the annulment came and her father, instead of siding with Wolsey over the greater good of his nation, sided with his sister instead, and demanded Archibald Douglas to pay the nine thousand pounds he owed her of which he only paid two then fled the country to Antwerp where he had some properties, with his mistress.

She tried to convince herself that Sir Thomas was not the same, in spite of what Mary and George said, who knew of her liaison with the young Howard. A peerage and a title as Earl or better yet, a Marquis would put off his mind any ambitions or ill thoughts he might have from his head.

She sighed and hearing the footsteps of her cousin's husband approaching, she knocked three times on the oak doors. Their signal –to tell Mary her husband had come.

"Damn him, I thought he would have taken longer."

"No, my love, please not now you might hurt-" she stopped as he continued to piston, thrusting furiously in her, making their bodies shake and sending her mind reeling. Thankfully she had enough reason that prevented her from telling him the truth, that in her belly his seed had taken root and she was with child, his child.

"Nay, sweetheart, I shall not hurt you. I vow!" Ned hissed; an angry hiss and then came his battle cry that she quieted with a long and passionate kiss. Emptying himself inside her and burying his fingers in her hair, her beautiful flaming hair, he said after he pulled roughly from her: "Mine, all mine." Then he left.

* * *

Mary was swimming in a sea of ecstasy. Her cousins, Philippa and Emma gasped witnessing her naked body, never before having seen naked women except for themselves and even then, they would turn away for the Church said that it was a sin to gaze at one self.

Emma, the more religious of the two, crossed herself as she turned her gaze away from her cousin's spread legs. She was still moaning and calling out Ned's name.

Meg and Susan reacted quickly. A hot tub had already been prepared and the few servants in attendance today, whom they trusted, took the sheets and burned them, replacing them with new ones.

She let out a long sigh as they submerged her; the hot water cleansed her from all the impurities. Mary forced her eyes open, her vision still blurry. Her eyesight soon returned as she heard George inquire for his wife. She fought the urge to cringe when George smiled at her naked sight.

"Leave us!" He told Meg and Susan. They left hurriedly, thanking the Holy Mother and the saints that His Grace remained aloof.

George stripped of his clothes and came to join her. "I missed you." He told her taking her lips in his. Ned's taste, the feel of his tongue against the soft flesh of her sex was still present and this helped stimulate her when George thrust his lance.

* * *

It is time. Mary told her husband. At first he laughed but then seeing she was serious he told the girl whose legs were wrapped around Mary's waist to leave them and gave her a pouch of gold. Her silence was golden yet she could not resist spilling the secrets of her lovers' chambers to her friends in the brothel.

The gossip soon reached the Queen's ears who, realizing the great mistake on their part, talked to her husband. Arthur dismissed it as just that, mere gossip and told his wife to do the same. She did not, neither did the younger Arthur and his wife whose servant Lizzie was the best friend of one of George's former lovers and attendants at Beaulieu.

Katherine ordered her to tell her everything, her secretary copying down everything, word by word, as Lizzie retold her friend's tale.

"They engage in terrible act Your Majesty. I told Lydia to pray for her soul but she loved His Grace Wiltshire too much Your Majesty. Oh, I wrote to her beginning her to keep away from his path but my dear Lydia, she could not resist his advances."

Katherine nodded, giving the poor creature a gentle smile. "Where is she now?"

"At a Benedictine Abbey, I know not where exactly but I know it is near Wiltshire. She prays constantly, her brother who is still in His Grace's service, tells me so."

"Do you two see each other constantly?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. The Duke trusts him a great deal. He blames not His Grace for his sister's folly and is very loyal. He is with us now, he always goes wherever His Grace goes."

Katherine nodded again and turned to her son, ordering him to investigate further on the matter.

The girl dismissed and his son gone to his chambers to start his investigation, the Queen was left alone with Anna.

"You knew." It was not a question. She did not wait for the younger German Princess to answer. "How long?"

"Two months Madame. I deeply apologize."

"For what? Not telling me what a fool I and the King were in our judgment giving our most precious jewel in holy matrimony to a man who has not only degraded her but blackened her soul as well? Or, refusing to tell me the extent of their lewd acts?"

A dawn of realization suddenly struck her and it showed on her facial features. "You suspected, Madame?"

"Of course I did. Every mother knows her child. I am not blind. I knew something was not well. I knew my son-in-law was whoring, I even knew who, but I never guessed he would force my daughter to participate in such lewd acts."

"Lady mother I am deeply sorry to correct you but it was Her Grace who asked to be a part of them."

Katherine's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowed.

Anna was not intimidated and told her everything that Mary told her that occurred that first night when she gave herself, body, mind, and soul to George and his lovers.

"My sweet Mary…" Sobbed her mother turning her back on Anna so the younger German Princess would not see her mother-in-laws's tear. "Oh my Mary what have you done?"

Anna knew it was best to let her mother-in-law to her own grief yet her sense of pity and desire to comfort her was greater. She walked to her and placed her hands on her shoulders. "'Twas not her fault Your Majesty. Her Grace is strong and she fights for what she believes. She believes in the sanctity of marriage and she believed she was doing the right thing, for her and His Grace's marriage sake."

"But she's stained her soul and now that child in her belly…" She stopped spinning violently around to face Anna. "The child was begotten in sin. It will surely end up as wretched." She declared.

Anna was surprised to hear of Mary's pregnancy. Katherine saw the confusion in her knit eyebrows and explained she knew and was a bit surprised Anna had not noticed the changes in Mary with the swelling of her breasts and her slightly growing bump.

"No child is born guilty." Said Anna convincingly. She took another step forward and wrapped her arms around the older woman, comforting her for the rest of the night until her husband came. By which her tears had ceased and she had reverted to her cordial self.

* * *

Mary Strafford chuckled as Henry rode her. "You scoundrel."

"And you Boleyn whore!" Henry returned, laughing back as he withdrew and ordered her to gather their clothes. "Are you with child?" He asked getting straight to the point as she handed him his clothes. He laced his breeches and waited for his answer.

She winked, giving him his answer with her smile.

"Mother will be so pleased. She thinks herself my father but she is not as clever as she thinks she is and Anne, oh Lord Anne. Ha! She thinks herself smarter but she is just an idiot."

"Idiot is a word that gets thrown around these days love, do not use it against the master-falcon. She may be a woman but she has the black heart and soul of your late father."

"Pooh! Anne is nothing like father. She loves her husband for one and our father never loved our mother."

"He was loyal was he not?"

"Of course but it did not stem from love, it was more love for her money and his sense of practicality. 'Bastards' he told us 'bring too much unwanted baggage and women that ought to be used must belong to the family'." She chuckled some more as they exited his apartments and run to hers.

"Your father sounds too practical for my taste." Before they reached the doors of her apartments, he pinned her against the wall and kissed her. "My little black bird." He started, cupping her chin, "I know you've been sleeping with every man in the palace, from Thomas Seymour to me yet you still flock to me, why? You could have aimed higher for my brother instead."

"I could but my husband is dying and your brother I fear is too much of a religious prude. Strange, I heard from my servants who have friends in Ludlow and his other properties that he was quite the ladies' man before he married his German stuck up wife."

"My brother and me are like water and vinegar and you know Germans, they take the fun out of everything. The Flanders' mare I am afraid has taken a hold on him and his religious views."

"Everyone knows your eldest brother is a man of constancy, he would not let anyone, even his dearest wife, dissuade him from his beliefs. No, my royal lover. What your brother believes, heresy, dare I say, is his belief and his belief only."

"Smart little whore, and here I thought your sister was the smart one."

"You are right my sister is smart but not as smart as me or a whore. Not that it would give her any fortune, Anne, I am afraid as your brother once wed, has become very religious and conservative in her views. She styles herself a diligent evangelist, a preacher for God."

Henry chuckled letting her go and walking her to the door. "I dare say if women could be preachers I would be in Church more often."

"Perhaps when your brother becomes King then, you can tell him to appoint me as one."

Both she and Henry chortled. "Perhaps but for now we will stick to the old Church and continue sinning. It is a most delightful activity, do you not think so my little whore?"

"I do." Mary replied and bit his lower lip after he had roughly kiss her.

"Until next week." Henry said, turning on his heel and leaving her.

His brothers thought him a fool for not marrying and for refusing their mother's proposal to enter the Church. He hated the thought of wearing one of those clerical robes. The whole idea of preaching disgusted him. He preferred staying true to his privileges without having to hide behind the hypocrisy and protection those clerical robes brought many of the Old Church, among them Wolsey who God rest his soul was known for his mistress and his two children.

Pouring himself some wine, he leaned back against his chair and opened the letter from his mistress, Bessie Blount. He still saw her from time to time. True to her word, she had not married and dedicated her life to their son, Hal. She wrote to him that he was growing strong and he had broken his toy soldier last week with no effort. Henry chuckled, feeling immense pride.

Shame, thought he, that little Hal would never be anything more than an Earl and a bastard. After much speaking on his behalf, the French Princess had convinced his father to take Henry back. His mother had not been happy but she was only a woman, his father was the King and therefore his word was final.

Intelligent woman, he often heard his sisters, Johanna, Cat, Bella, and their sister-in-law, Madeleine, say; do as they are told.

* * *

**Author's Note: Taken from Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, notes, Wikipedia, Henry VIII and his Court, and inspiration from GOT and BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII.**


	30. Chapter I

"You have beauty, charm and intellect, but there is also a je ne sais quoi about you that cannot quiet be defined but is certainly enticing to the gentleman." She stepped into the wardrobe chamber. "Now, let us see what you will need."

Her French maid chose two gowns that Mary might wear during the day and two gowns that she might wear in the evening. "Where is your mistress at this hour, child?" Mary asked her. Her French maid shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. It was not her business to know about her mistress' whereabouts she politely told her.

Mary accepted her reply and her choice of gowns.

With this handmaiden that her father had forced upon her as a way to force a reconciliation between her and that French ninny; it was becoming harder for Ned to visit her chambers. She was not blind, she knew the girl reported back to her original mistress. Mary did not want her to know the secret door Ned used every time to exit her chambers before George's arrival.

The doors opened and Mary did not have to turn. George leaned down and kissed her neck, suckling on the right side. She was thankful he did, otherwise he would have noticed the bite marks covered by her hair cascading past her shoulders on the opposite side that the Viscount of Beauchamp and Hache had made.

"I love you, you are so beautiful. So beautiful, my love. I promise things will change now."

They went to the King's chamber, his house of magnificence. Since the times of Edward the Fourth, the royal household had been divided into two separate departments; after the Plantagenet dynasty was overthrown, their successor, Henry Tudor continued with this practice. He wanted England to be known as the greatest, most luxurious realm in Christendom.

Filled with tapestries, portraits, and statues of past Kings, Mary and George entered.

"Your Majesties." George said bowing along with his wife respectfully to the King and Queen of England.

"Father, mother." Mary greeted. Her mother smiled widely noticing the change in her daughter with the swelling of her breasts and the new color in her cheeks yet she said nothing to her husband. It had been only two weeks since George's return and it was too soon to tell whether or not she was pregnant or if her husband's seed would be strong to survive the first months of pregnancy.

They dined in silence, barely looking at one another. George held Mary's hand as the servants came to pick up their clean plates and smiling at his wife, looking to her for approval, which she gave almost immediately, he cleared his throat and raised his cup with his other hand.

"Your Majesties, Father, Mother, we have a great announcement to make."

_Your announcement, not mine,_ she thought. Mary watched intently at her parents' expression as he made his announcement.

Her mother was not surprised but a skilled actress she smiled proudly at her daughter and she glowed with great happiness thinking this child would not grow spoiled or prejudiced like her previous grandchildren. This child, she knew her mother was thinking, would be theirs and only theirs to raise.

Her father was beyond words, his mouth nearly hit the floor.

God's blood! He swore mentally. He had not been in England two weeks and he had already gotten his darling pearl with child. "This merits celebration!" He declared rising from his chair, and bidding his wife to do the same. They raised their cups and declared jointly. "Another glorious day for the Tudor dynasty."

Everyone chuckled and afterwards congratulated the youngest member of the family and gathered around her, hounding her with answers such as who would be the godparents and who would be selected to carry the child for his or her Christening?

Mary knew not of such things yet, but she promised them that as soon as her womb grew, the family would be the first to know. She looked to Madeleine whose belly glowered by the gold and silver on her dress meant to outshine her but Mary had taken that moment. It was clear the look on her eyes, and so the race was on to see who would outshine whom.

* * *

Ned nearly spilled his drink when it was announced that the Duchess of Wiltshire and Princess of Kent was with child. He did the math and knew with a certainty that the child was not George's but his.

Thomas took him to a tavern that night, just a brothers' night out, he told his brother and pat his back.

"I know how you feel."

"Oh God." Ned's head dropped on the table. "Please do not tell me you…" but Thomas' nodding stopped. "Son of a-" He could not finish that sentence as he turned sideways and threw up his drink.

"That was my first reaction when I knew." Tom said laughing at his brother's antics. He ordered four more mugs knowing that Edward was going to need them. This was just too good to pass up, Tom drank them all at once and ordered double, this time leaving them untouched for his brother.

When his brother came up after a tavern wench went to clean up the mess he made, he found his brother laughing so hard that bear was spilling from his lips. He found the scene disgusting but Thomas continued laughing knowing this upset him.

"You are unbelievable."

"Me?!" Thomas almost screamed. "Look at you, big bad wolf, you planted your seed on the little lioness. I knew it was a matter of time, took you long though. I would have warrant it took you less but you were always known for your shyness and your slowness."

"I do not sow seeds of discords nor do I jump ship as quick as you do. Now I guess I will have to drink all of these too. Four for me and the other four for the bastard King you've seeded on the Princess Elizabeth's belly."

"Queen." Thomas reminded. "She is Queen of Scotland now and you are looking at the future King's proud father."

"Good God Thomas, you realize what will happen when the bastard is born and if they see your hair? They will know Her Majesty gave birth to a pup instead of a unicorn."

"They should be happy I guess. The wolf is mightier than any horned animal and I should know. The golden lioness and I horned the Scottish ninny." Thomas hit his fist on the table laughing harder, nearly turning the table over and spilling Ned's drinks.

Ned quickly drank all of the beer mugs intoxicating himself and coming to the point he was singing and joining Thomas in his laughter.

* * *

"Come, come, sister! Look what His Majesty brought you."

Mary and Anna were silent as they relaxed into thoughtfulness as Princess Madeleine presented them with children's dresses. "I did them myself!"

Mary and Anna raised an eyebrow as if to question that statement.

"It is beautiful Madame." Mary told her taking the children's gowns Madeleine claimed she made.

She threw them into the fireplace when she came into the chambers of the Prince and Princess of Wales.

"You should do an effort to be in the very least civil to her Mary. Look at Anna, she does not like the chit, but at least she's civil."

"I would rather choke in a malmsey of wine like Uncle Clarence than vow before that French harlot!"

"Well if you continue to act like that you might find yourself drowned."

"You don't believe that she would go that far. Mary is your parents' favorite child and you are the future King making me the future Queen, she would be foolish to take revenge on both of us."

"She knows but she cares for none of this. And she won't be foolish as to take her revenge upon you but she may carry her vindictiveness against Mary." Mary's brother said giving his youngest sister a concerned look.

Anna swore under her breath. Her belly was swollen but her dress was simpler, therefore nobody noticed her form nor praised her as they did the Duchess of Pembroke, the Princess Madeleine and they were soon likely to praise Mary.

"If she were in Germany where ladies know how to behave she would not be behaving thus."

"But we are not in Germany sweeting and that brings to mind my Aunt, your Aunt too by marriage, Princess Elizabeth. You know she's risen to Duchess of Saxony and her son will be arriving soon."

"How wonderful." Said Anna, excited to have a companion for their three sons, young Arthur, John, and William. "When will he come?"

"I have not yet been told but last I heard his mother, my Aunt had agreed a month ago so it should not be long."

And it wasn't. Heinrich came to England the following week presenting his credentials to his Aunt and Uncle. "Your Majesties."

"My Lord Heinrich welcome." The Queen, ever mindful and ever graceful in her manners welcomed him followed by his sweet grandmother, the Queen Dowager and former Princess of York, Elizabeth Plantagenet. Then came His Majesty who gripped his nephew's shoulders and looking him from top to bottom. He smiled, pleased enough with his manner of appearance.

He met his cousins next, they were all very nice to him but none were sincere he feared until he met the most beautiful and sincere of the lot. "Her Highness and Her Grace, the Princess of Kent, Duchess of Wiltshire, and Viscountess of Rochford." His grandmother introduced bringing his cousin forth to him.

"Smile Mary, this is your cousin Lord Heinrich of Saxony and he expects to be treated every inch of the Prince he is, do you not My Lord?"

"Yes, lady grandmother though I am already too grateful and I feel I should reward you by giving more of my good behavior which I hope you will find as pleasant as you find now in the future."

"Our cousin has a way with words." Isabella said taking the four year old and lifting him up. Heinrich behaved with a wisdom that far preceded them. For the entire evening, everyone spoke of him and everyone wanted to play with him. Not least of them were Mary's children, Tom, Anne, Marie, and Cat who found him odd and amusing. Heinrich formed a quick friendship with Tom. They became inseparable.

One hot Sunday afternoon after mass, they chased each other across the gardens of Richmond where Court had moved, when they came to a sudden stop.

"Do you hear that?" Tom asked his best friend. Heinrich nodded.

A soft melody that came from the opposite side of the castle caught their attention. They raced towards it.

They were surprised to find Lady Agnes Margery Seymour playing on the harp, sitting alone on a bench next to an oak tree singing the nightingale.

*****"Down by the river, a shiny soft meadow, a bed of grass …" She stopped her playing as she saw the two gentleman looking intently on her. "My Lords, I am sorry if my music disturbed you." She was immediately on her knees.

"Rise, My Lady." They both said.

Agnes did as she was told, just like her father instructed her before they came to Court. He said "Agnes if a royal tells you something you obey. It is better not to defy these people". As the two gentleman circled her, she noticed it was the four year old that caught her gaze. "Hello" Said he.

"Hello." Said she. There was an instant understanding between them, a foretelling of what was to come. Envious his cousin and best friend had caught her attention, three year old Tom pushed Heinrich aside and placed himself in front of Agnes.

"I am Lord Rochford, Sir Thomas Boleyn, First Knight of the Garter as you must know. At your service." He added after his boast, holding his chin out proudly, taking her hand possessively and kissing it without her permission.

Agnes wrenched it free yet he would not let her go. He and Heinrich followed her to her chambers where she knocked twice hoping her father would answer and scare the younger two royals.

(If there was someone who knew how to deal with royals, it was her father.)

Yet her father was nowhere to be found. Her Aunt Jane answered her instead. Agnes asked her why she wasn't attending Her Highness Mary but she responded that Her Highness Mary was busy lying in her chamber. Thomas Boleyn was far too infatuated with the graceful image of the dark haired Seymour to listen to Jane Seymour's words and before the she-wolves could politely dismiss him, he and Lord Heinrich barged into her father's chambers demanding she play something else for them.

* * *

"Where is Agnes? I thought you told her to play her harp." Ned said as he and Mary lay abed.

"She has a wicked wit. Last night I ran into her as she was running to your apartments and she said to me the most naughty thing that can come from the mouth of a six year old. Her mother was Liza More after all, I supposed I should not be surprised then."

"What did she say so I know when I spank her tonight," Ned asked as he kissed her shoulder.

"Nothing my love, just the way she looked at me, was enough to tell me that she knows about … us."

"And is that such a bad thing? At least I shall not have to keep secrets from her and you are wrong about Liza my fire lioness." She giggled at the name he called her. "Liza was snippy but she was no fool, she knew when to hold her tongue."

"Is that why you couldn't wait to marry her?" He shook his head. "Why then?" She queried, curious.

"Liza was … fair of heart and fair of judgment but she was … always hard. I guess it's hard to explain it but she was always strong-minded-"

"Mm… I am beginning to like your dead wife more and more," Mary said in a seductive voice as he pulled her beneath him, kissing her mouth with a quick kiss. "Tell me more." She begged as he found his voice again, fighting the urge to drive his lance into her again despite the obviousness shown by his erect organ.

"She was not like you love if that is what you wish to know." He said putting an end to all doubts she might have had about her and Liza More. Truth be told, she always felt Liza was a ghost whom she could not compete.

The pup currently nestled in her belly, unusually quiet; troubled her. She felt a strong need to do justice to this man, this wolf who'd introduced her to pleasures and emotions she had never experienced before. This man loved her and what he said yesterday before George came into her bed as they made sweet love in her great-grandmother's, Lady Wydeville's window seat again and again; "I love you, I will always love you," stuck.

This man would give his life for her if given the chance. His heart was cold but when he was with her it became warm. Mary was the fire that lit his spirits and rekindled the flame that had been so long gone since Liza More's death.

"So when you lie beneath me or I lie beneath you, it is I you think of, not her, not Liza or Catherine?"

"No my sweetheart, only you." He declared and took her lips again and thrust his lance inside her, spilling his seed.

* * *

Ned got up from her bed, his legs sore. She was fast asleep. When he closed the doors behind him, gathering his golden chain and his feathered cap, he told her attendants and her cousin to give her a good tonic to keep her asleep for the entire day and work up any excuse they could find to explain for her absence to the King's banquet hall.

They were still celebrating the Prince of Wales' second son, John William's birthday. Since many believed his older brother would never succeed the throne, him being too weak and too sickly, all attention was on him.

Ned had to support himself putting his hand against the walls of Richmond as he walked to his apartments, his legs completely sore and his male organ completely itchy against the fabric of his breeches that grew tighter with every step he took. He blamed it on his memories, which evoke images of last hour's passions with the Princess of Kent.

"Son of a …" He did not finish his insult as he heard high-strung laughter and footsteps coming from his apartment. Now what? Just when he thought he could escape to his only sanctuary for peace and quiet, he was greeted with this!

"Brother! We did not expect you to come so soon." Jane said, knowing by his expression and awkward walk where he had been and what he had been doing. She closed the door behind him and linked her arm around his, guiding him into his daughter's bedchamber. She was playing her harp for the two royal cousins who were at present laughing and teasing at each other.

Yet, Ned noticed, their eyes always came back to rest on her. *****"And the fish have scales, this I know, I know, and the birds have wings this I know, I know!"

He cleared his throat. She stopped playing and turned around. "Father!" She cried running in his direction. She wrapped her arms around his waist. It seemed like yesterday he held her in his arms as a newborn.

"My Lady," he said smiling down at his daughter who in spite of her tender age, was taller than most girls. "You mind telling me who are these two Lords you have invited to our humble abode?"

She giggled knowing very well he was jesting. She motioned for Tom and Heinrich to come. They curtsied to Lord Beauchamp who curtsied in return, bowing his head lower because of their rank and lineage.

"Papa this is Lord Rochford, Sir Thomas Boleyn and this be Lord Heinrich of Saxony."

"My Lord." They said jointly, bowing their heads again, though Ned noticed Thomas Boleyn's head did not bow so low.

"They heard me playing today in the gardens and they followed me here." His daughter explained hurriedly.

"We hope you are not mad my lord, 'twas our fault not hers. The blame lies with us alone." Heinrich said, fighting desperately not to cry. Though proclaiming to be valiant like his brave ancestors he was often sensitive and the idea of someone being punished for something that was not their doing but his, was completely upsetting to him.

Ned saw the inner conflict in the boy and eased him with a gentle voice, "No, I am not mad but Agnes I would appreciate next time for you to tell me."

"I tried father, but you were nowhere to be found and," she looked to her two royal companions. "Lord Heinrich wanted to show me his collection of poems. He has some good poems papa, do you want to hear some?"

"Later sweetheart, your father had a rough day, his back hurts and his legs are sore. Jane, sister, please tell Tim to fetch me some wine."

After the royal lords made their exit, promising to return on the following morrow, this time bearing presents, they said, for his daughter to hear her singing; Agnes asked him. "Did you go riding again?"

Ned who saw no point in hiding the truth from his daughter, nodded. She knew and as he told his flame-haired lioness, the truth spared him from much trouble of lying and an uneasy conscience. "I did, yes. Three times." He boasted.

Agnes slapped his shoulder. "Papa! For shame!" She said with an indignant voice but Ned chuckled and soon his daughter was chuckling too. "My lord grandfather More would say that you would go to hell for this. He says all adulterers are sinners."

"No sin can be greater than denying help to a person who needs it. And the Princess of Kent needs my help, she is in a loveless marriage as you know and her husband makes her engage in terrible acts-" he tried to explain but his daughter interrupted.

"I know." She said then leaned forward and whispered everything she heard from her companions at court. Ned's eyebrows rose. Surprised that someone so young could exposed to such things, and what was more, that her companions, girls no older than Agnes, had been the ones to tell her!

Agnes giggled. "Do not be scared papa. You know that all the girls talk to each other and their maids, many of them, are best friends with the Princess' maids and they tell them what goes on behind closed doors."

"Still it is not a conversation for a girl your age." He chided gently "You would do well to shut your ears from such things and run to your Aunt or Uncle when they start speaking of these things."

"But I like it. It makes me feel included and Uncle Thomas has been so sad lately. He misses his lady friend, Her Highness, the Princess Elizabeth."

"Queen Elizabeth, she is Scotland's Queen now." His father reminded her.

"Queen Elizabeth," rephrased Agnes in a tone that indicated she did not enjoyed being corrected, "She's left Uncle Thomas with a broken heart and he does not look at other ladies."

"Sweetheart that is what your Uncle wants you to believe but if you knew your Uncle as I do then you'd know this is all just an act so he can get every naïve lady he can find sympathy and bed her and move on to the next."

"Like you and the Princess of Kent?" She asked with a wry smile, daring him to answer something different –which he did and she found herself bested by his experience and his true love for the Princess Mary once again.

"Yes, like me and the Princess of Kent. But that is different." He defended. "I do not intend to be anyone else or marry anyone else."

"So will you remain single forever?"

"Mayhap not forever, who knows what fortunes God could bring us but for the time being I am happy with my two favorite ladies, you my daughter" he said poking her nose, "and my flaming goddess."

Agnes giggled harder and her giggles eventually turned to laughter, her joy enraptured her father and he laughed with her, swooping her in his arms and taking her back to her bed where he read from her favorite book, Aesop's fables until she fell asleep.

* * *

Anna kissed all of her children and sighed with longing. They had buried their daughter last year, a week after George Boleyn had departed to France. What had been a good beginning of the year of Our Lord 1534 for many, had been a sad one for them. Although Anna's womb quickened with her husband's seed not soon after; they missed their darling girl. Anna always dreamed of having a big family. She boasted to Henry they'd have four boys and twelve girls. And although the number was exaggerating, Arthur promised her he would make her dreams come true.

"Perhaps this is not the end, only the beginning. We can still have our twelve daughters, I shall give you many daughters Anna, I promise." He swore that new year's night after everyone had gone to bed and he found his wife crying by the fireplace. He took her in his arms and carried her bridal style to their bedchamber where under the painted ceiling where the letters A and K stood for their parents' union, consumed their passion.

On the third of February of that same year 1534, it was announced she was with child. It would not be long, Arthur told her encouragingly, before her belly was big and their daughter would be born. Yet her pregnancy was overshadowed by Madeleine's whom on announcing her pregnancy everybody seemed to forget that their Princess of Wales was with child as well.

Anna did not mind but she knew Arthur and Mary did. And the latter, with her anger and vexation at the court's attention to Madeleine, got the best of her. Anna despaired for her best friend.

This was dangerous territory, she warned Arthur, the following night after George had announced her sister-in-law's pregnancy to her parents. "You know what she is capable of, you know who her father is and who her Aunt is. She learned from the best and I do not doubt for one second she learned from her father's infamous mistress, Anne du Piseleu." She had told her husband, ending her sentence with: "If she were to find the truth behind Mary's excuses both her and her unborn child would be ruined, not to mention Lord Beauchamp would be locked away in the tower and left to rot with his child in her grandfather's custody."

And it was here that Anna had realized her grave mistake for she assumed that Arthur knew about Mary's affair but she was wrong. Not soon after he barged into Mary's chambers, knowing George and Edward Seymour were with the King in another Privy Council meeting.

Anna had arrived late but she had instantly known by their scarlet faces what had transpired. Arthur was shaking, Anna had never seen him so angry. He gave his sister a last warning to stay away from Lord Beauchamp. Not because it was wrong, he told her, but because he was one of the few men who cared for the King and his realm, and the few men England had who was both loyal and pragmatic and would do anything to keep England safe, even if it mean betraying his morals.

Anna shook her head remembering Mary's response that she would rather suffer a thousand deaths before letting him go. He was hers and hers alone. In a battle of wills that she knew neither could win for both were equally matched; she stepped in and convinced her husband to let Mary decide on her own. Her husband agreed but with the condition that she should, from now on, tell him through Anna _every time_ he bedded the young wolf. And under no circumstances –he added- should she let anyone else in her chambers that were not their relations or that she absolutely trusted.

Anna sighed, letting her hands slip down her belly. "My sweet darling heart, what family are you born into." She told her darling girl who was very active, kicking her wildly as of late. Like Mary's wolf cub, it could sense when danger was near and did not warm to strangers.

"Your Highness," she turned her head to the door and saw her new lady-in-waiting, her niece by marriage, Lady Gertrude Somerset who was only three and ten but like her mother very cunning and observant. She wore the light colors all ladies in her service wore with a simple white French headdress adorned with diamonds. Though it seemed simple, all her ladies' clothing was more expensive than the rest of the other royal women's because they were in the service to the Princess of Wales, the future Queen of England.  
When her mother told Gertrude she and her sisters were to serve the future Queen, they considered it an honor. At last, they would be going somewhere. Eleanor trained her daughters well and to Gertrude who was the most beautiful and inherited her Wydeville ancestors' golden mane and her father's fair complexion, she told her that this should be her armor and she should be wise knowing how to use it and not ashamed of herself when she did for beauty was a weapon and in the case of a woman so learned as her; the best one.  
"Your Grace, the Duke of Wiltshire, is here to see you. Should I let him in?" She asked her voice gentle, but her eyes wide and alert.

"Of course, of course, show him in Gertrude and after you do, you can stay. Play something for us, will you?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

She enjoyed Gertrude. Emma was too wild and plainspoken and Philippa too bold and boyish. Gertrude possessed many talents and Anna had no doubt that one day she would marry a wealthy, handsome, and talented noble with skills to match.

The doors to her privy chamber opened and George Boleyn entered. Anna told Gertrude to pull a chair for him. "Your Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She said extending her hand for him to kiss.

"Your Highness, it has come to my attention that you and my wife are at odds with Her Highness, Madeleine. I know 'tis not my business to inquire but it has taken a toll on my wife who spends her nights locked up in her room and one night my sister, Lady Northumberland discovered her weeping."

"Oh no," Anne said with feign expression, raising a hand to her face, "that is awful."

"Yes." George said in a grave voice. "I want all of us to keep the spirit of harmony the Tudors dynasty is known for and with Heinrich recently in our care, I feel that it is my responsibility as His Majesty's only son-in-law present in his realm."

He brought his chair closer to her and placed his hand on top of Anna's that was resting on her lap. He squeezed gently and Anna did not like the way he looked at her. It was the same way he looked at his wife and the other women before he engaged in carnal pleasures with all of them at once.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, coming straight to the point.

George smiled genuinely, pleased with the Princess of Wales' answer. "I want you my sweet lady to help me convince my wife to apologize to our French sister."

"And why would I do that?" Anne inquired, feigning innocence as she wrenched free of his grasp but he caught her hand again and placed it on the table.

"Because I say so and because I think our lord father, His most gracious Majesty, would not be too fond to know that you did nothing to heal the rupture you and my lady wife have caused on this family." While he was still smiling, his tone was menacing and his look was calculating.

"Your Grace," she said gulping as she struggled to free her hand. "I think it would be best if you should leave before my lord husband-"

"Yes, I know, before your lord husband were to find you. You foreigners are very mindful of your manners and the court has never been filled by more tut-tut and manners since Her Majesty and you arrived. Before that, England was a land for English and English people only. Now that time is passed and we have to make room for foreign royals but do not judge me for my xenophobia my lady, I assure you there are others more ruthless than me that were it not for your constant condition of filling the royal nursery with more male Princes rather than Princesses." He said. This last an obvious reference to her lost daughter. "No one would mind lifting a finger against your actions. As it is though, they cannot but they will no doubt lift a finger against my wife and my wife Madame is my concern so if she falls I shall pin the blame where I can find it but rest assured that blame shall fall on your foreign uncrowned head." He gave a last smile and rose, curtsying to her and bowing his head lower than she had ever seen, showing her a sardonic smile then he turned and left.

Anna was distraught by his visit and remained distraught, refusing to leave her apartments for the entire day. When her husband arrived and asked her what was the matter, she said nothing and asked him to hold her. He did and noticed on her hand imprinted two fingerprints. Arthur being highly observant knew at once by their size to who they belonged to.

* * *

**A special thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Thanks to Mimi Dubois for helping me with some details and to everyone else who's favorited and recommended this story!  
**

**Author's Note: Taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, and Henry VIII: King and his Court by Alison Weir, and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, A Song of Ice and Fire saga by GRRM, *GOT, *Hunger Games, and BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII and Shadow in the Tower.**


	31. Chapter II

"Mother." Said the youngest Arthur, coughing loudly. His servants patted his back. Anna and Arthur were growing more concerned with him every passing day.

Why did he have to be so sick? Thought his father.

"What is it my love?" Anna asked in a soothing voice. "Remember, take deep breaths before you speak, there is no rush." She told him taking over his servants' duties, kissing his brow.

"Mother, don't!" Arthur said struggling to tear himself away from his mother's overbearing person. He hated being treated like a child.

Knowing what he thought Anna ruffled his hair and answered him, "You are a child my love and my sweet, beautiful child."

The young Prince rolled his eyes while his father and his younger siblings laughed.

"Oh!"

"What is it?" Asked the older Arthur concerned.

"The baby!" She exclaimed waving her hand, beckoning them to come. The wet-nurse carried their youngest child William John. After many talks with her in-laws they decided not to name him John as she and her husband had planned. It would have caused too much confusion and besides, there were already too many Johns in their family. However they did get away with it by naming him William first and then John. It turned out to be a good decision, if not an amusing one. Their oldest son although weak, had a great time making fun of his brothers and causing confusion to the servants whenever he asked for John William and William John. To avoid all that confusion they agreed to call their oldest son John and their second "Willy" whom the latter responded to very well.

"Is it time?" Arthur asked concerned. The last months of her pregnancy had not been going as planned.

There had been two close calls where Arthur had been certain she had lost the baby but thankfully this was not so.

"No," Anna said with her placid smile. "Tis just another kick, your daughter is very active today."

Arthur chuckled. He thought by the way the child moved that it was a boy, but he dared not go against his wife's judgment. If this was a daughter he prayed it would not be another Mary. Though the thought of having a strong-minded female on his litter brought a smile on his lips.

"What are you thinking?" She asked him that night after the children were put to sleep.

"Nothing, but I was just thinking, if we have another daughter-"

"If?" she asked amusedly, kissing his brow. "If not my love, we are having a daughter. I am certain of it."

"Then it worries me if she be like Mary."

"You should not be. Mary has been chosen as godmother to this child and next to her the Queen. She is also a strong-minded woman and she comes from a line of strong-minded women just as your father, just as you." She said emphasizing her point, pointing her gaze to the portraits hanging on the entrance of their room. "Margaret Beaufort and Meg of Anjou fought for their sons' right to the throne, look at where they are now. One our late King's mother, our present King's grandmother and your great-grandmother."

"And her star will keep on rising," Anna continued taking his hand and placing it on her swollen belly, feeling the kicks of their daughter as soon as she felt her father's presence. "With this child we are another step closer to securing the Tudor dynasty."

"We have already secured it my love with Arthur, John, and William." He took leaned forward and took her lips, kissing them gently. "Poor Margaret of Anjou though. She could have never survived the intrigues of the Court, even if she wanted to. Her husband's days were numbered." Said he, turning to the late Queen of England, the last of the Lancaster Queens, some considered, portrait that stood before his great-grandmother's.

"It is one thing to conquer a land. It is another thing entirely to keep it. There is no doubt in my mind had Henry V lived he would have lost those territories as quickly as his son."

"Tis not the monarch's fault. The problem with the Lancasters is they left everything to chance, they were all conquerors as your grandfather, the founder of our dynasty. The only difference was that your grandfather took every matter into his hands and while he consulted with nobles, he never let any of them influence his every decision. Every decision he took was for the good of the realm. The past Henrys I am afraid were not too wise on that regard, if they were, they would have kept their crown."

"Aye but we would not be here copulating as happy man and wife." He told her kissing her again.

"Stop it, you will upset our daughter. She moves more wildly when you kiss me." Her voice dropped into a whisper. "I think someone is jealous." She said mischievously chuckling and he joined her chuckling as well; it soon turned into laughter as the child in her belly began to kick wildly at all sides.

* * *

Mary went into labor the following morning after Anna. To everyone's surprise both had birthed daughters, and to everyone's even greater surprise, Anna had also birthed yet another son!

"What shall we call him?" Anna asked. It was agreed that if they had a fourth son, Arthur could name him and Anna would not argue with him, accepting the name no matter how common or outrageous it sounded.

He turned to his great-grandmothers who had been visiting their chambers, dining with them when suddenly Anna fell from her chair, struck by a tremendous pain. They had been there for his wife, barking orders and soothing Anna while she birthed his children.

"What say you my ladies?"

"Hmm, it is a tough call. But I think another Edward would not be badly received. After all there is only one Edward so far in our royal litter." Said Elizabeth Wydeville referring to his Uncle Edward.

Lady Derby nodded.

So Edward it was then.

His wife nodded, liking the name very much and their said son responded to the name right away when he heard it uttered from his father's lips.

He and his sister were christened on the third of November. Born a month early everyone in the royal family was worried they would not survive but as December came, the children thrived.

Mary was happy as she presented her daughters at the Yule festivities. Twins again. Everyone congratulated her, including Anne who despite her experience and her eagle-observant-eyes, did not suspect of her nieces' parentage.

They were named after their great ancestress, Margaret and Eleanor Elizabeth … Boleyn.

"It was the only way." She told Ned on a starry night as they made sweet love on the stables. "We mothers have to do what we must to keep our children safe and I thank God that they inherited the Seymour features over your mother's family." Everyone would know then. Nobody except for the Howards in the Boleyn family had fair features. And even if she said they had come from that branch of their family or her Wydeville one, no one would have believed it, seeing as all her other children had been born red-haired or dark-haired.

"I guess I should be pleased then." He said as he pulled her into an embrace. They lay underneath the hay, not caring if they were seen. All that mattered was them and Ned bent his head down to capture her lips.

* * *

George looked down with interest as he came down the stairs to his son and his royal cousin, Lord Heinrich, playing with the little Agnes Seymour.

"I win, I win!" His son boasted proudly taking his wooden sword from his opponent's had and mock-stabbing his cousin.

"That you did." His father said surprising them.

Agnes bowed before the Duke. Heinrich followed. His son ran to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. George was exceedingly proud of his son. He did not need to bow before anyone, including his father. He understood his importance and seeing his German cousin, in contrast, follow the Seymour heiress' every move, George's calculate mind started working fast.

* * *

Katherine of Aragon was not surprised to find her not-so-discrete youngest daughter in the hay. It'd taken her hours but she finally wrestled the truth from grandmothers-in-law mouth. Filthy women. How dare they involve Mary in their schemes! Yet Katherine could not help but laugh as she remembered her own love night with Arthur, when she confessed to him that she wanted to be intimate with him at last. Laughing aloud with the knowledge that it had been that night that they conceived their firstborn; she did not pay notice to the wrestling figures in the hay perking their heads up. They nearly jumped in surprise.

"Mother!" Mary exclaimed gathering her clothes. Katherine shook her head in disapproval and told Ned Seymour to leave them. The younger man seeing the serious look on the woman's face did not think twice, however he gave the Princess one bold kiss before he parted.

"So that is your wolf." Katherine said as she took her daughter to her chambers.

"Mother, I can explain."

"There is no need. The ladies Wydeville and Derby told me everything. I must say when they said black wolf, I was afraid they meant your sister's former interest. I am glad it was not so."

"So you approve?" Asked her daughter as the Queen's maids stripped her from her clothes and submerged her into the hot tub.

"No, I do not. Your vows are to your husband, however your husband is a lecherous fool to look elsewhere for comfort when he has a beautiful girl, why should I say girl? A beautiful woman, a heavenly creature, the best I dare say if I be so bold that God has ever given man, in his bed."

"Mother you flatter me-" Mary started, laughing but her mother's strict voice stopped her.

"Do not laugh Mary. This is not a game. You love this man, I can see it in your eyes but as long as you are married to George he remains your husband."

"I know mother, I know but George and I … we have grown apart. I have done things with him, things that you would be so ashamed of me if you knew…" She started bowing her head down in shame.

Katherine noticed she was crying and knelt next to her daughter, not caring to get wet and wrapped her arms around her.

"My sweet darling Mary I know and every day I pray that God sends that man away. It is my fault. I made you marry that man, I fostered him with us in the belief he could carry you away from any interest to marriage, I wanted you to be with us, me and your father we ... We …" Katherine paused, then her sky blue eyes met her dark blue ones. "We wanted you here with us, we were afraid you would leave us and we received many offers from every kingdom you can imagine to give you away in marriage. Your cousin when he saw you wanted to marry you instead of Isabella and I had given it some thought but seeing you in your father's arms I was convinced you would never be happy to be far away from home so I said no."

"Is that why he refused Bella and Aunt Bess?"

"Yes. He did not want them. He wanted you. Your cousin is a collector, not the kind your Uncle, King Francis is, but he is. He is known for desiring beautiful things and you are the most beautiful Princess in Christendom."

"What other offers were made, if I may know?"

Katherine told her all of them.

Mary's eyes widened. She had never thought of herself of anything else other than the average beauty. It had never crossed her that she was desirable or anywhere near the sort.

"But you gave me to George."

"Yes. Yes I did." Katherine admitted gravely. "And not a day goes by that I do not ask the Lord forgiveness for my sin."

" 'Tis not your fault sweet mother. Tis mine." Mary comforted her mother lifting one arm and placing her hand on her mother's arm.

"No Mary, I won't have you comfort me, it was mine. Do not try to pin the blame on yourself. Remember God's words that we must always stay true to ourselves no matter what." Katherine reminded kissing her daughter's air that had been washed and no longer smelled of horseshit, "I wish I did not have to hold you in my arms now and tell you to forget about that man, Seymour, but you must Mary. Enough sins have been committed my daughter."

"Mother please no. Do not ask me that. Ask me anything but that."

"I must Mary. It will not bode well my daughter. Look at how far he's come. He has given everything to your father and the security of the realm. He has his career and he is all his daughter has. If he were to fall you would not only be killing him but you would be stealing his daughter of an opportunity for a good future."

"Mother I beg you stop. Do not go any further, you know I do not want him to suffer. And I know this may seem like a big sin to you but what is a greater sin: To live in a loveless marriage with a man that hardly respects me or lie with a man that has been both faithful to me in body and in spirit?"

"But he is not your husband Mary!'

"I know he isn't, but in my heart he is. Our souls mother are bound by fate, you must believe this, you yourself has said that the Lord wills all things, that everything that happens, happens for a reason. I believe my love for Edward was God's will."

"Oh Mary!" Cried Katherine kissing her daughter's wet auburn hair one more time, "You know not of what you speak of my darling little jewel. You are mine and your father's pearl, you are our most precious jewel. If we were told to give half of our kingdom just to see you safe, we would. Do not force us to meddle in your affairs because we will Mary." Her mother's tone turned serious and she withdrew her arms and went to the front of the tub, locking her gaze once more with her daughter's, "I will do everything to keep you safe, spiritually and physically." She swore.

Before her daughter could answer Katherine of Aragon left and went to answer her chambers' doors. It was her husband, George Boleyn, whom the Queen told that Mary had been riding all day and she would be sleeping in the Queen's closet.

George accepted his explanation, kissed his mother-in-law's hand and shouted at Mary that he loved her then bowed to the Queen and left.

* * *

Little Edward played with his namesake. He looked oddly at his grand-Uncles who were both so alike and yet so different. They were mirror images of each other. Edmund's hair was auburn-brown, while his youngest brother's, little Edward's namesake, was black as night. He had inherited his father's ancestors' Welsh features but his eyes were a sky blue like his Plantagenet ancestors from his mother's side while his older brother's were dark grey as their father's.

It took the toddler a while to distinguish from them.

Edward, the Duke of Gloucester scooped the baby from the floor and carried him to the Great Hall where all the family lay waiting for the Yule celebrations. It was Christmas Eve, and the Dukes of Somerset, Gloucester, and the Prince and Princess of Wales along with their families, were the only ones missing.

The King received every one of his brothers and his son and their families with open arms. He smiled at Anna who joked that there might just be another child in her belly. Everyone laughed, praying it was not so.

They had lost count over the number of children each in their family had and if Anna had another child, that meant more favors and more courtiers kissing the King's arse with flattery. Arthur senior hated flattery but his wife enjoyed it. Before his beheading she had enjoyed the entertainment the Duke of Buckingham gave in his apartments and declaring himself her loyal knight whenever he rode against his opponents in the tourneys.

Arthur, though he remained her Sir Loyal Heart, had disappointed her as of late.

That night George brought with them, Eloise, Mary's new servant girl. She came from a well-to-do merchant family.

Poor girl, thought Mary as she saw her shiver.

She didn't know what it was, seeing the girl shiver, or begging with her tears not to, but the King's pearl finally found the courage to say 'No'. And as she did and took from her drawer her mother's rosary and gave it to the girl, telling it would serve her more than it did Mary, and to go pray for the both of them, George looked at her angrily.

"You heard me my lord. I said no and I mean it. Now good night." However George did not let her go, he gripped her arm and brought her down into submission.

"You are my wife and you will please me!" Said he tired of her excuses, tired of her sudden sense of moral hygiene that was the product of her time with the golden wolf.

He gripped her tighter and threw her on the bed. "You are my wife." He repeated coming on the bed and stripping her of her clothes.

"That I am," she responded, not in the least intimidated. "But I shall not please you. I reserve that right to my husband, the man I married not the man he's turned into!"

Rip! Rip! He tore her nightgown to shreds. And taking down his breeches, he ordered her to lay still. She refused.

"Why? Is it because I refuse to bow down to you? Because I speak my mind, because I tell you the hard honest truth unless my spoiled lady's subjects that she so loves because they do nothing more than to kiss your darling royal arse?" He leered, his eyes shooting daggers. Mary stopped struggling after he pinned her arms against the mattress. He ignored her cries and came down, overpowering her with the weight of his body.

He could think of nothing but hurting her, humiliate her as she had humiliated him. How dare she? He had loved her, done everything to please her. Since he was a boy he had fallen in love with her, every day he prayed she would be his and when she finally was he let her order him around because he thought that was what love meant -submitting to the other person's will. But soon he realized that he was nothing more than a trophy to her, just another prize. She didn't love him. She was like every royal.  
Blood calls unto blood, he thought disgustingly looking down on his wife's marvelous body and beginning to explore it with his hands. She did not move, she was too scared. However she found the courage to speak.

"How dare you? I have been admired by every royal Prince in Europe. Everyone vied for my hand yet I married you, it should be you who should be grateful, it should be me who does the jeer yet I don't George because I have stood by this marriage, because I cared for you, because I loved you. I loved the boy who defended me when the rest of my siblings mocked me! I fell in love with that boy, where is he?"

"He's gone!" He shouted, looking at her as if she was the dullest creature he had ever encountered and in his blind rage, unaware that she was shaking, impaled on her.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources taken from Henry VIII: The King and his Court by Alison Weir, notes, and Henry VIII and his Court by Neville Williams. Inspiration from Bertrice Small historical romances, GOT, and BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII.**

**Just to add George Boleyn is *not* played by Padriac Delany but by the actor who played Prince Philip in Once Upon a Time. Mary is still played by Sarah Bolger. To see the rest of the cast, just visit my flickr page found on my profile.**


	32. Chapter III

Many of the guests had, as Edmund had predicted, come in their court finery since they had not the means to have a costume made in such a short amount of time.

While the rest of the court slept, Edmund and his wife entertained their guests in the Queen's closet. Katherine had decided to spend the night in her husband's chamber.

He and Eleanor smiled to each other. Edmund hoped that his brother would come to his senses and listen to his wife. Katherine was by far the wisest woman she knew after his wife.

"We will have an entire night to ourselves." He teased after the masque had ended.

She teased him back putting her elegant little mask. He took it off and threw it across the room then wrapped his arms around her then captured her lips. His weight made her loose balance and she collapsed. Her back on the bed, Edmund still embracing her, he recaptured her lips and began moving his hands underneath her skirts. "Edmund." She chided softly as he gave her an open smile, smiling mischievously.

The Duke of Somerset intended to give his wife everything he deserved. He promised this would be a special night and he intended to make it so.

Edmund awoke after an entire night of pleasuring his wife. Their legs were sore and Eleanor asked him to stay for another night. "But love, it is sunrise!"

"I don't care." Responded she and brought him back to bed.

Two days in this haze of pleasure. Edmund did not come out of his chambers until the 27th when he felt he needed to exercise, else he would lose the use of his legs. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a soft whimper. "Mary?" He asked confused to find his niece at this time of night and here of all places in the chapel.

"Uncle?" She perked her head up and threw herself at her Uncle, swinging her arms around his neck and resting her face at the crook at his neck. "I did not know where else to go."

She sobbed. Edmund could tell she had been hurt. Her face, her beautiful auburn hair, hid the left side of it. Edmund gently pushed it away and saw the bruise. Immediately he saw red, his eyes hardened.

"No, please. It was my fault!" She pleaded with him. "It's not what you think."

But Edmund did not hear reason, he was already marching to her chambers not caring if he woke the rest of the castle but Mary stopped him, putting herself between her chambers' doors and him.

"Please I beg you. Do nothing. I-I-I-I … it-t was my fault. I hit him! It was my fault he hit me."

"Mary," kindly he said, "step aside please."

"Uncle, please, I implore you!" She said throwing herself at his feet. "Let this be, do not speak of this to anyone. It was my fault. I threw the first stone, George … George was just angry…"

"He might be angry but that is no way to deal with his wife." Said Edmund trying to move his niece away but she remained firm in her resolution not to let him pass.

He must be courteous, he must be approachable, he must convince Mary that he was working for her well-being and everything he was doing was for her well-being. Therefore taking a deep breath, he placed both hands on her shoulders and gently and softly, lifting all worries from her mind, he made her a promise that he would abide.

Mary was grateful to hear him speak thus, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I knew you would understand Uncle." Said she, kissing his leather vest. She perked her head up and locked her dark grey eyes against his equally dark grey ones. The one feature that had set them apart from their siblings, that said to the rest of the world that while they were Plantagenet in appearance, their eyes, the windows to their soul, revealed they were Tudors through and through. As such, their spirits were strong; Mary asked him: "Promise me you will not say a word of this to anyone. Least of all my lady mother."

No, Edmund began to shake his head vigorously but Mary, repeated, sounding more desperate. "Promise me." She pleaded.

Edmund could not deny her. He took his handkerchief and cleaned her tears, and caressed his niece's face with his thumb.

"I promise I shan't." Was all he said.

As he watched his niece enter her apartments and close the doors in front of him slowly so she would not make any noise and wake her angry husband, Edmund could not help but be overcome by impotence.

Here was a woman, the only woman he believed, with all three of their families' strength. And he'd let her slip from his fingers to return to her abusive husband.

"What is wrong?" Eleanor asked him the following morning. Her husband had refused to break his fast with the rest of his family, he had even refused to go on a hunt with His Majesty, the King, his brother, and he never refused. Eleanor was worried he could be ill.

"Nothing." Edmund said. "Nothing." He repeated in a hollow voice.

As the days dragged on and the new year came and everyone received 1535 with open arms, Mary remained confined to her chambers, refusing to see anyone, including her great-grandmothers whom she believed were responsible for her great sin.

Her hands fell on her belly, unsure if the child she carried was her husband's or her lover's. She wished it was the latter; God forgive her but she still missed him.

She closed her eyes imagining his touch. His arms around her waist. His kisses on her neck. She opened her eyes and spun around to see Edward. She blinked twice to make sure this wasn't a mirage, a cruel illusion, a product of her imagination or heart playing cruel tricks on her. She had already suffered enough. Couldn't her heart just let her be?

"What are you doing here?" Was all she asked trying to tear her eyes away from him but he did not let her. His gaze was hypnotic and his voice was like a siren luring her in, tempting her to sin.  
No! I must be strong. But she couldn't. He came forward and gripped her shoulders, lifting her up and taking possession of her mouth.

Her senses went numb, she could feel reason and fear of God slipping away as his hands slipped to her waist, to her buttocks …

No! She said harder and summoning all her strength, she pushed him away. She wiped her mouth with her sleeves, hoping that would take away the sensation she had felt seconds ago when he kissed her. But it only made it worse.

As she let her guard down, Ned took the opportunity to look at her for the very first time. He didn't want to believe the rumors he heard from his siblings. Jane had been dismissed from Mary's service for reasons he could only guess at first were due to Queen's resentment towards him for having a liaison with his daughter. As time went on however, he learned through the new Archbishop of Canterbury who had not been on good terms with the Boleyns as of late, especially His Grace, the Duke of Wiltshire; that it was because George Boleyn had found out. Instead of going to the King and Queen however, he decided to punish his wife by raping her continuously and locking her up so nobody would see her.  
He had replaced all her ladies, minus three, that had been extremely loyal to his wife. Jane of course had been the first one to go.

She had told Thomas everything. Being closer to their younger brother than Edward, Thomas relayed everything to Ned. He cursed himself for calling his brother a liar and accusing his sister of being the same for thinking her to be jealous for the Boleyns and Howards' new appointments into her former mistress' service.

Ned had only seconds to realize what a fool he had been when Cranmer told him everything that he had heard from one of Her Highness Anna's ladies-in-waiting through confession -that she had learned through her sisters and cousin, who were in Mary's service.  
He knew George to be reckless, thoughtless, and careless. But never in a thousand years would he imagine George Boleyn to be a wife beater.

He pulled the flaming curtain away from the left side of her face and saw clear as day the bruise. It was worse than when her Uncle saw her. Now it was purple and where once had been a perfect cheek to match her right one, there was now a scar.

"It's my cross to bear." Mary said casting down her eyelashes to hide the sadness and embarrassment that she felt that Edward had to see her like this.

"Do not say that." Started Edward, his practical mind at work, thinking of the many ways he could dispose of George without much effort.

Seeing what went through his blackened mind Mary approached him and for the first time since they last saw each other, and she vowed this would also be the last, she engaged in intimate contact with him, taking hold of his hands. "My love, what happened here is the Lord's vengeance. I see that now. I married George because I believed he could make me happy and he did make me happy until you came. But I don't blame you nor do I blame my ladies great-grandmothers, the Lady Wydeville and the Lady Derby. I blamed the devil and myself for letting me fall into his temptation and commit sin." She took another step forward. "I love you, the time we had together was the best of my life," she took a deep breath.

He could feel the edges of the diamonds encrusted in her golden ring as she hardened her grip. "It shall be a time I never forget." She declared, taking another step forward. She raised her head as he leaned down his, and gave him a peck on his lips. "But that time is past now." She said and let go, summoning her cousins to escort him out.

"So that's it? One farewell, everything I and your great-grandmothers have done for you? After everything I have sacrificed for you?"

But Mary did not answer. She closed the chamber doors behind her and went to sit on the armchair next to her bed, waiting patiently for him to leave and for her husband to return.

It was the right thing to do. She told herself. Edward will forget me. In time, he will find himself a good wife, someone who loves and cares for him, and I will be nothing more than a memory.

* * *

Ned trashed his entire apartment. His daughter heard from her bedchamber next to his and buried her head in the pillow, covering her ears, pretending not to hear.

* * *

His good looks and his rank had one fair claim on his attachment; since to them he must have owed a wife of very superior character to anything deserved by his own. Princess Mary had been an excellent woman, empathetic and with a strong character; whose judgment and conduct, whose judgment and conduct were always constant unlike, with the exception of her oldest brother, her older siblings. She had humored and entertained everyone with her great sense of empathy and her want of being pleased. Philip fell in love with her at first sight; since he accompanied his cousin to wed her oldest brother, the Prince of Wales, under the disguise of one of her servants. Philip knew then that she would grow up to become one of the most beautiful women in Christendom and he was not wrong.  
When his sister wrote how the former royal midget had blossomed and he had heard from her Aunt herself, his Aunt as well by her marriage to the present Duke of Saxony, Princess Elizabeth; he had written to His Majesty asking for her hand in marriage. He had some gambling debts that he had paid off and while he was not Duke of Bavaria yet, it was no secret that Albert the fourth of Bavaria would die soon and with no heirs the Dukedom would pass on to him.  
He had more to recommend him, he added. He was a member of the Order of the Golden Fleece for his brave defense of the city of Vienna against the vengeful Turks six years ago. This earned him the nickname "the warrior". But in spite of this the King did not heeded his request and when he found that she had wedded George Boleyn, he was jealous. He intended to write back but he soon thought against it. Years passed and his cousin Anna, the future Queen, began to write to him how things were becoming more tense amongst the young royals, especially the women. The "French woman", a title she placed on the uptight French Princess and Consort of Prince Ferdinand, newly created Duke of Pembroke, Madeleine Valois; was responsible for making her life and his beloved Princess' life a living hell.

For a moment, he forgot all about his Princess and focused all of his attention at Anna when he heard this. He wrote back and told her that if that royal chit gave her any more problems, he would help Anna teach her a lesson and accept whatever proposal came his way from England over France.  
It turned out he did not have to wait long.

With the French being rumored to ally themselves to the Turks again, although this was not proven; England was in dire need of friends, not just Imperial friends but friends at all sides and since they had already wed two of their royal members to German Houses, what was to wed another? The lucky one they chose was their oldest daughter, Isabella. The King was not ready to give away his eldest daughter. The Queen however had postulated that as their youngest daughters were wed, it was only fair their eldest wed too. "And about time" she said. Isabella and the twins were not getting any younger and Bella was ripe for marriage. She could, though only eight and twenty suppose that her beauty would last forever. In another era where hastiness to wed might not be that great of a burden to place on the lady and her parents' shoulders; she would not have to worry with finding a husband. But the truth stuck her mother, the Queen, that her daughter was not getting any younger and neither were the twins for that matter. It was essential, if not vital for the stability of the realm through the alliance they would struck, that they wed.

In spite of his intended desire to wed one of the Tudor Princesses, Philip found himself more obliged to ask on Her Highness and Her Grace of Wiltshire's well-being. If rumors be true –God he hoped they were not!

The Queen turned a blind eye to his inquiries and presented him with their eldest daughter.

Isabella was wearing a green velvet dress with golden brocade and a pearl diadem that the Count Palatine guessed –and he guessed correctly, his cousin later confirmed when they were in her chambers- belonged to her youngest sister, the Princess of Kent and Duchess of Wiltshire.

"He wants me to wed a dark bird who behaves like a blond airhead."

"Do not be so judgmental. Those children over there are all blonds, none of them are dumb I can assure you." Anna said. To further prove her point she called her two eldest children and had them recite all the psalms in Greek, Latin, and English. When they grew too bored of hearing them, Anna clapped her hands and told them that was enough and then called their governess to put them to bed along with her other children.

Anna turned back to Philip giving him a look that said 'See what I told you?'

"Alright, that is one exception to the rule but you cannot tell me that Princess Isabella is a scholar." If her looks were not as her mother's, she would embody everything he thought of golden-heads. "The Princesses Johanna and Catherine mayhap," he resumed "I don't know what but there is something I don't like about them, when I am with them I feel very uncomfortable."

It was not so when he was with Isabella Tudor who was of a sweet disposition and eager to please.

"Than do not wed this Princess but I can see it in your eyes you'd do anything just to be close to your beloved Kentish Princess."

"She is my true love."

"You saw her only once Philip!"

"But I knew from the moment I saw her that she was the one for me and I can't bring myself to love her sister. She is so shallow and selfish; she has not one humble bone in her tiny body."

"She is the King's eldest daughter and the King has already made you a knight of the garter. He is likely to bestow more favors once you two wed."

"God Almighty!" He swore. "I will drink myself until I puke so I can gather enough courage when I bed her."

"It should prove no hardship, you who has surely bed many," said Anna, reminding of the ladies-admirers that swooned over him whenever he went. Or so he'd written to her.

Philip chuckled. "They were not so uptight and jealous wenches as this is likely to be. She was clinging from my arm whenever we sat together. Their Majesties found it very amusing, I can assure you cousin, I did not."

"Ah well," Anna said waving her hand dismissively, "better a blond airhead who will kiss your feet and following your every command blindly, than a petite, sweet, and kind, generous lover."

"You refer to the Princess of Kent."

"Who else?" Asked Anna taking a strawberry from the fruit platter in front of them. Her appetite had returned and she and Arthur, although they had not yet confirmed it with the midwife, suspected it was because she was with child.

"You will be sprouting babies like rabbits cousin. You remind me of your sister, she has a baby almost every year."

"Aye." Agreed Anna, "but most of them have died." She reminded him, "And while my darling girl was called to Heaven too soon, God has sent my darling Amelia to ease my sorrows and I have given His Highness four healthy children."

"You are truly right cousin. You have surpassed your sisters in both beauty and wits. Even if you are not book-smart or well-learned as the rest of the ladies in your father-in-law's court, you have what they do not possess and that is your practical sense."

Anna blushed. She was not yet used to so much praise.

"Do not be embarrassed cousin," Philip told her, "You are like Juno, a goddess of fertility and nobody is more regal and jovial than you, except Her Majesty and even she lacks your practical sense."

* * *

The absent Princess of Kent spent the last trimester of her pregnancy in confinement in Kent. She wrote to Bella from Hever Castle when she arrived, that she was sorry she could not be for the welcoming reception for the Count Palatine and that she would have to miss her wedding as well.

Her father and Cleves' ambassador along with Philip Wittelsbach and his secretary Cromwell, acting as the intermediary between both parties, had already drafted the marriage contract and the young German Count had already signed it.

Mary shed tears of her happiness. She was truly happy for her sister and she hoped she would remain in England for she wanted to meet this dashing German cousin her sister-in-law spoke so often.

She wanted to speak to Bella about what would await her in the marriage bed but she guessed she did not need to since George came with her sister's correspondence a month later after the German Count's arrival, telling her that they had already been wedded and her sister had already been bedded.

Mary nodded and thanked her lord husband. She could feel the child moving constantly whenever he arrived. There was some faint hope that it sensed danger and this would mean it was Ned's child and not George's, but her dreams were shattered when the child was born.

Her auburn hair, her fair face he possessed and though his eyes were closed, she was sure they were dark grey or Boleyn brown like his father. No trace of Edward.

**A falcon. **

She closed her eyes refusing to hold the child. How could she love a child that was conceived in violence? A child that was the product of her discord between Mary and her former lover? A child that that further tied her to George?

Just as they watched the babe and forcibly Anne placed him in her mother's arms, Mary noted something peculiar in her. As the babe stopped wailing and perked his head up, his eyes meeting his mother's. Mary gasped.

Anne and her mother-in-law were immediately at her side, alarmed. "Is something wrong?" Lady Boleyn asked.

Mary smiled, shaking her head. "No, everything is all right now." She said and they looked at each other in bafflement but then they shook their heads, thinking it was just the result of the pregnancy that Her Grace was saying nonsense.

As Mary held unto her beautiful boy she brought it to her lips, kissing his forehead. "You are so beautiful my _bel accidente_." She said in French after she and the babe had been washed and left alone.

On his hip like his full-blooded sisters' there was a tiny birthmark. An upside down 'V'. Mary thanked the Heavens for this gift and kissed her son, once again meeting his father's dark blue eyes.

* * *

***The idea of the birthmark is loosely based off Mimi Dubois' story Faith For Duty which I recommend, although in hers the birthmark is very different.  
Author's Note: Taken from Mistress Anne by Carolly Erickson, notes, and Henry VIII: The King and his Court by Alison Weir. Inspiration from GOT and BBC's The Six Wives of Henry VIII (1972).**


	33. Chapter IV

**Quick note. Isabella's appearance is dark haired, she is played by the actress who plays Lady Sybil Crawley in Downton Abbey, I was writing the part of Elizabeth and Margaret in Scotland so I got the appearances confused, sorry about that. Chapter III therefore is corrected. Philip's observations:"He wants me to wed a dark bird who behaves like a blond airhead ...  
Re-uploaded this chapter after I noted some spelling errors and lack of descriptions as well.**

**Hope you enjoy. Please R/R.  
**

******Sources: Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, notes, Wikipedia, and Tudors by John Guy. Inspiration from BBC's films The Six Wives of Henry VIII (1972).**

* * *

Mary could not believe her ears. What was this he was suggesting? The whole point of this meeting was so they could discuss her children's future and now George was telling her that he would send them away to be reared next to their first royal cousins in Ludlow? No1 She shouted. Unacceptable.

But George was committed to having his own way and in the end nobody would go against it, not even his saucy oldest sibling, Lady Mary Stafford, now (that she was a widow again) Lady Boleyn dared contradict it.

And so it was that the youngest Boleyn sibling, the rump of the litter had his way and Mary was pregnant yet again and this time she could be certain it was a falcon.

Please my Lord, she prayed to the Almighty to take the child away. I shall not ask anything else from you but cleanse my womb of its impurities. Twins, she knew. She had foreseen it in a dream, and in the dream, everyone was wearing black and their jewels melted and turned into pearls.

My funeral. She thought grimly.

She had waited for him, hoping in vain that he would rescue her. He would be her Sir Lancelot and she his fair Guinevere and they would live happily ever after. But like everything in Mary'[s life, she realized that the dream was nothing more than a fairy tale.

She had settled for a simple letter but when she realized it would never come –and her words had hurt him and severed any hope that there could have been of a rescue, she'd gone into a deep depression. She had considered suicide but she knew that would be a sin. But my marriage itself is a sin –she told herself, wrestling with her conscience every day until she no longer knew what was real and what was not.  
Then when her son was born, the answer came right to her. He was their son, not hers or Edward's but theirs and he alone held the key to her happiness.

She battled George the following days after recovering her strength. "You will not take my children away." She told him but George's response was with violence.

She was not going to be his puppet any longer. _But you are,_ a voice in her head said. _You are and you slipping away more each day._ Oh Holy Mother forgive me, she prayed silently as she stood next to a statue of the Holy Virgin. She was becoming more and more like her mother and great-grandmother, Margaret Beaufort, the Lady of Derby, who knelt every day before a statue of a saint or a holy relic to pray for absolution.

She knew it was wrong and that she would go to hell by just wishing it and the child would burn with her, condemned into eternal damnation just like her, but she would have preferred it if this was a child of Ned's as her last three than another one of George's brood. She could not stand another falcon. Her children by George were becoming more unruly. Thomas, her oldest son did nothing but brood over his education and the company he kept. The servants complained about him and she had to send him secretly to her mother, disobeying George's orders, to set him straight. (Thankfully, he never found out, or else her face would have remained as ugly as it had been when he first scarred her).  
And her eldest daughter, Anne Marie, she was the worst. She was just like her namesake, running around the castle barking orders. Anna had sent her back with a letter regretting that she did but explaining to Mary why she did and her husband, her brother, did the same, in a more detailed letter explaining to his sister what the little temagrant did. She had boxed her daughter's ears out of frustration remembering everything her oldest great-grandmother had told her about children and their unruly behavior. She had been pampered all her life and her parents had never lifted a finger against her or said any harsh word because there was no need. But Anne Marie was violent and cruel and she deserved a good beating.

Little good it did her. She ran back to her grandmother, the Lady Boleyn and told her what her mother had done and she told her son. George had come into her rooms and warned her that if he heard she lifted a finger against his precious little bird he would lock her up and make sure she never saw the light of day again.

Her hands fell to her belly. She had given her mother's rosary to that servant girl Eloise. That poor girl needed it more than she did and wherever Eloise was she was sure she was in a better place than Mary. Nonetheless, she bowed her head down and joined her hands, and prayed for her.

Pippa, Emma, and Meg Douglas stared at their cousin in silence. Their heads were inclined. They also prayed for deliverance. Her cousin had suffered far enough under George Boleyn. Instead of a bird who preyed on the weak and the defenseless, she needed a bold bird, a happy bird who would bring back the happiness into her life.

* * *

Edmund could not stand it any longer. He wrote to his daughter demanding answers. He knew his letters could be opened but he did not care, if he had to suffer for his actions then let him suffer damn it. He preferred a royal scolding to a moral one.

His conscience would not bear it if something happened to his niece that he could have avoided.

Unbeknownst to him, there was someone else who shared his feelings. Philip and Bella had announced to the court that his distant cousin, Albert IV of Bavaria had died and so had his daughter and therefore he was now the official Duke of Bavaria. Everybody applauded him and started calling him His Grace. Then he announced that Princess Isabella was with child.

The Court toasted to their happiness and the King who couldn't be happier. His oldest son with a brood of sons; his youngest wed at last to a good woman of royal blood with two sons and more on the way, and his youngest daughters fertile as well. And now he had another reason to celebrate and boast the fertility of his dynasty.

The King told the young couple they could have anything they wanted. Anything.

Philip looked at his wife and she nodded. He asked on her behalf permission to go to Kent, on Hever, the seat of the Boleyns.

The King blinked. He was surprised by this request but seeing no danger in it, he consented.

He and Bella were off the next day to visit the Duke and Duchess of Wiltshire in Kent, the seat of the power of the Boleyns and also the seat of power of the Princess of Kent, his youngest sister-in-law.

* * *

Philip was astounded when he met her. He knew she was beautiful but he didn't expect this goddess. The Viscount of Beauchamp, recently given the earldom of Hertfordshire for his good service, had told him that she was an amazing person and of a mesmerizing beauty. But he had never expected this.  
To say that he was shocked was an understatement.

Bella snapped her fingers, breaking the illusion.

He glared at her but she only smiled. While others thought her stupid, naïve and an airhead; she was the complete opposite. She knew of her husband's infatuation with Mary. She had seen it when he accompanied his sister to her father's court to wed Arthur. She could see the similarities between Anna and the portrait of her sister Amelia, and knew him not to be a simple servant boy but a royal Prince from the German Court. Her suspicions had been confirmed when Cromwell's secretary, Robert Barnes, had gone to Bavaria with Holbein to paint a miniature portrait of him. When she saw it, she knew him to be that _servant boy Otto_. And she knew that he would never be faithful to her. Yes, faithful in body perhaps, but not in soul or at heart. Not that she cared. As long as he was discrete and planted his seed in her belly, what he did in his spare time was none of her business.

Bella wrapped her arms around Mary's slender form. It was incredible to believe that for someone at the end of her first trimester she could still look so slender. Her stomach was the only part of her body that showed any swelling, and even that did not spoil her beauty. Her sister hated her for it. Whenever all the other women in their family started having babies their entire bodies started to swell.

Indeed. Their mother was not the same woman their father married. Her hair had lost its shine and although she was still beautiful (for her age), she had lost her figure after many years of childbearing.

Bella laughed inwardly. She would kill herself before she lost her figure for eight spoiled brats. Her hair was the most beautiful part of her. Everyone who met her said she was the living image of her mother when she was young. Dark haired, light blue eyes, fair skin. _Beautiful._

She knew her sisters and brothers, and she knew herself very well, she would not want to have sons and daughters like her siblings or her.

"Look at you, how you've grown. You've gone from being the royal midget to Goddess Juno or something like it and you Your Grace George Boleyn. You've gone from being a traitor's son to a Princess' Consort. How does that suit you?"

"It suits me well actually." Said George, not in the least offended. Everyone knew the oldest Princess' wicked sense of humor. "We are waiting for our third son. I hope."

She will likely give you more daughters –thought Philip –who had seen the children in the Boleyn home's nursery. The last three, even with their dark hair and their youngest siblings Plantagenet features he inherited from his mother, looked nothing like their supposed father. He knew by the way they smiled, the way they giggled, and bore that well-natured look that they were not Boleyns. Boleyns were birds of prey who were not afraid to take what they wanted without giving a single thought to their actions or anyone else that was not them. Seymours, on the other hand (he'd learned from his brief interview with the Earl of Hertford) were proud and careful planners. They were not afraid to take what they wanted either but unlike their Boleyn counterparts, they did not take anything right away. It took them years but when they eventually reached their goal, they would guard it jealously and let no one else near it.

That had been George's Boleyn's mistake; Philip thought as he observed the silent byplay between him and Mary. George Boleyn had been a fool. He believed that he was entitled to the same privileges his royal wife had and took advantages of others while reaping the royal benefits and living off his wife's lands at the same time. Philip wondered if it ever did cross his mind that he had married a lioness and not a woman, whose will and passions could not be quenched by a mere bird, a common bird at that.

But in the end he had tamed her and he tamed her good.

"Our children will be staying with us for the remainder of the year, I hope you two don't mind the noise. I will tell my sister and my mother to keep them far from you so they won't bother you."

"Not at all, please bring them to our rooms. I want to have some training before I become a mother and if you could move our chambers closer to yours? Please?" Bella asked, her lower lip coming forward in a pouting manner.

George found it hard not to say no. Bella Tudor was a child at hard and she had manners more graceful than his wife, yet he never had a liking for dark-heads or blond for that matter. Isabella Tudor did not share any of her father's features but the way she behaved, it reminded him of his Howard relations.

When he and his wife had shown the Duke and Duchess of Bavaria to their rooms, next to theirs, he and Philip went for a walk, leaving Mary and Bella alone.

* * *

The former Queen of Scotland was furious when she read her great-grandmothers' letters. Lady Wydeville shared her fury and Lady Derby, the more practical of the two, though she did not show it, Margaret could read between the lines that she was furious as well.

"How dare she?" Margaret swore under her breath as she paced back and forward in her daughter-in-law and niece's privy chamber.

She had given birth to a daughter who was now seven months old and she was pregnant again. James had sent her into confinement in one of Margaret's dower houses. He felt Court life would be too much for her and he was right. Elizabeth had lost her glow after she had given birth to their first child whom she named Mary Elizabeth after herself and her sister whom she was very fond of and terribly missed.  
The child had her grandmother's dark locks and her light blue eyes, to everyone she was a miniature version of Katherine of Aragon, the English Princess who'd come from afar to conquer English hearts. Elizabeth could tell her daughter was destined to rule over hearts as well.  
She was the only one who knew where the source of dark hair and light blue eyes came from. My bel accidente, she said every time she held her. She had been the only light in Elizabeth's darkness. For the first months since she had arrived, it was clear her husband's interest lay elsewhere and although he was fascinated by her, he rarely gave her the same expediency he gave to his mistresses. Margaret, the former Queen, tried to comfort her and Bess pretended that she needed her comfort because that way it was easier to gain public sympathy -if ever a dispute arose between her and husband where she would need it.

Elizabeth inquired on the source of her anger and Margaret gave her the letter. Elizabeth shook her head and said it was impossible. Her mother would never do this. There must be a mistake.

Mary must have done something to make her angry.

"Aye, she did." Margaret said coldly and suddenly Elizabeth cowed at the sudden change in her Aunt's voice. "I will tell her what she did. She chose to follow her own like our English ancestors and her mother is punishing her for it."

"But I don't understand. There must be some mistake, read it again Aunt, mayhap they mean something else. Grandmama is also a Queen, mayhap it is her."

Margaret snorted. "Dear child –" she interrupted, "Don't be naïve, your grandmother, my mother, Elizabeth of York is Queen Dowager and she was never influential or skilled in politics as her mother and mother-in-law are. This is your mother's doing."

Damn Katherine! Why couldn't she just let those two love birds be? No, everything had to be morally perfect.

"But it is a sin. When I abandoned my fancy for Sir Thomas and Sir Henry you told me so."

"That was different." Margaret snapped. "You were going to be wed to my son and I don't know about you, but when you have a son, and that son is about to wed someone, you don't want her to wed some royal harlot who will put a bastard on his realm's royal cradle."

Elizabeth was silent.

"This is because of your mother's beliefs. She believes that her daughter's open marriage is a sin, then again your saintly mother believes that everything that is not allowed by her saintly Church is a sin. It's no wonder why your siblings ended up the way they did."

"Arthur is a good man, so is Mary. In time, she will see that-"

"In time there will be no time! She will be another useless widow, weeping and drowning herself in sorrow over her lost joy. Believe me dear I know. When I married James, I did not marry for love. I married because they told me to and because England needed a Scottish alliance. I cried when he died though but not because I loved him," the former Queen of Scots said to the present Queen, "But because I knew your mother and I knew she was counseled by the best women, your great-grandmothers. If they wanted they could have invaded Scotland but thank God, He took my younger brother and delivered me and my son from that fate. Your mother is a calculate woman, I know what you are thinking and perhaps you are right. She is sweet and she takes good care of you, but tell me if she were to choose between her God and you, who do you think she would choose?" Elizabeth said nothing. "That's right. She would choose her God. For her the Church is everything."

"But she loves Mary. She's always loved Mary." More than the rest of us, was left unsaid but her Aunt nodded knowing what she meant.

"What does it matter though?" Margaret said walking to the window and crossing her arms. "In the end she will get her way. Mary will be molded into the perfect little wife Katherine wants her favorite child to be."

Elizabeth bowed her head. She considered making confession to her Aunt about her great deception but after hearing her, she rethought her choice.

Margaret sighed and traveled to the opposite side of her bed to seat in one of the settes.

"I would have thought Mary would have rebelled." Elizabeth said, knowing her sister well, though not as well as their oldest brother; she knew that her sister would never take 'no' for an answer and she always found a way to get her way.

"She did but Lady Derby says that Katherine is keeping a strict vigilance over her letters. She hates George with passion too but he is her husband and she doesn't want her daughter to sin any further."

"That is just silly. Mary should be allowed to love."

"Love is for the fairy tales, my darling angel. It doesn't come easily to us."

"You said that Lady Derby and Lady Wydeville are still plotting."

"Yes but they are not allowed to see your sister."

"What about father? Have they not appealed to His Majesty, my lord father?"

"They have child but didn't you hear what I said? Katherine will have her own way, end of story."

"What if George Boleyn were to be taken out of the equation?" She stopped and bit her lower lip.

Margaret looked at her and laughed. She clapped her hands. My God, at long last she said something worth my hearing! "That is brilliant. Why did I not thought of it before? But who to tell and how?"  
Margaret's mind was busy concocting her plan while Bess bit her nails nervously. She meant it only as casual talk; she never meant to be taken seriously.  
The thought of killing weigh heavily on her conscience.  
But it was too late to take the impulse she had revived in Margaret. She and her grandmothers had been plotting for months but they always ended up in disagreement. Now that Elizabeth had brought desire back in her, Margaret could not resist its impulse.

She wrote to her grandmothers in Latin, in case her letter would be opened, and told him of the great plan she engineered to take down the falcon and his brood if need be.

Out of the many things she had re-learned during her stay in Scotland it was how to deal with your enemies. If there is someone blocking your way, you simply walked by him and stabbed him in the back. Simple as that.


	34. Chapter V

**Author's Note: I have become aware that some people do not like the direction that my fics are talking. That they perceive that their is a conspiracy against their favorite characters. I assure you that this is not the case. If you feel it is, I suggest you review the sources below, this is written according to the attitudes and beliefs of that period, things we would now consider appalling were an every day thing back then so keep that in mind.  
**

**Sources: Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, Henry VIII: The King and his Court by Alison Weir, and Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman.  
GOT, Borgias, and Shadow in the Tower used for inspiration.**

* * *

From one window Isabella could see her sister's oldest children playing with their older Aunt and Uncle, Harry and Eleanor. Nor, called affectionately by all the members of the family, including some courtiers who were very close to them.

Her Uncle Edmund and Aunt Eleanor had brought them with them, along with Gertrude and Harold, their oldest children, who'd come along the Prince and Princess of Wales and their two middle children, John and William John. The two Johnny, as some teased.

She looked more closely at the Duke of Wiltshire. It was clear he favored his oldest children. But she looked to her sister, Mary, who was miserably sitting on a pile of cushions that had been brought for her comfort, on the grass, looking down on her stomach.

She hated children. Bella did not know how everyone loved them but for her they were little critters who were disgusting and did nothing else but shit and spit. But everyone loved them and her husband did, and that was what mattered most of all. That the child waiting in her belly was a son. Then he could do whatever he wanted. As far as she was concerned, having a son was the most important thing in the world. Once your duty was done it was none of your business to know what your husband did, whom he saw or didn't saw behind closed doors. That was his business, it was their world. The world of men. Isabella never pretended to be part of that world. She engaged in conversations of political nature from time to time with Henry and the twins, but that was it.

That world was off limits to her.

Bella turned to her husband. Her servants were putting on his coat. He complained about the weather, he was not yet used to English weather. One day there could be violent winds, the other it could be snow.

"It is winter. What do you expect my husband?" She asked with a sweet smile kissing his cheek. His well-cropped black beard tickled him. She hoped the child would be as beautiful as they.

"In Germany there will be winds and that is it. If it snows it stays like that, if it is winds, it will stay like that."

"How boring!" Exclaimed Bella. "I would not like to live in a place like that. I like my variety, with all its perks English weather is regarded as the best."

"Not by the Spaniards."

"What do they know?" Said Bella. "They are just jealous because papa has threatened to renew the treaty of perpetual peace with the French instead of them. I say he ought to have years ago. The French have brought us beautiful gifts and if Mary had not been so foolish, she would have been Dauphine by now with many servants ready to do her bidding."

"And she would have likely taken the same course of action as her namesake and your late Aunt, and returned to England a widow and married the first rogue that crossed her path."

"Aren't you the jealous type?" She cooed, her lower lip coming forward again in its same and usual pouting manner, cupping his cheeks. She was the only one whom Philip had allowed such liberties. All the other women he'd been with, would have never dared to do this to the future Duke of Bavaria.

He smiled at her. "It allows us to be who we are and keeps our wives in tight restraint."

"You mean like a horse? No, out of the question. Isabella Tudor does not settle for a tight leash. I am not a horse you can control my lord, I am a Princess of England."

"Until you give me a child, a boy at best, you will be kept on a tight leash my lady." Teased Philip back, chuckling as his wife boldly turned her back on him and went to sit by the window seat, telling him she would never bow down.

"I will you over in the end my lady. You shall bend the knee or I shall bend over, which I assure you I shall not. No man has ever been denied in my family. We come from a line of strong men, the Wittelsbach always get what they want."

"And I come from a line of strong women." She countered. "The Tudor women always get what they want and the Plantagenet women are always hard to satisfy. You will bend the knee in the end my lord, you shall see." She said winking as she returned her gaze at the window.

* * *

Edmund Tudor, the Duke of Somerset, climbed into his carriage, seating himself opposite his wife, the Duchess of Somerset. He smiled at her. "What do you think?"

"I think if you are wise Edmund, you will go along with it and not think twice this time." She said, coming to sit next to him and rest her head on his shoulder. "Mm,"

"What is it?"

"Hold me." He did and she told him: "I miss when we were young. When we were not so tired. Did you see the way Mary eyed her children? It is the same way I eyed mine after your brother died. Don't give me that look!" She chided. "I know it's not a topic you like, but it's a topic we must discuss. Henry was my first husband and my first. I loved him and I still do, but I will always love you best because you brought me such happiness. I opened my heart to you when everyone told me not to and I have never been happier."

Moved by her words, he said: "You have made me the happiest man on God's green earth, my lady. I would be honored if you shared this with me." He said taking the letter from inside his clothing.

They were instructions they were to take before the sun set. Eleanor had given her daughter the first set of instructions to follow after everyone had gone to bed. She'd given the last instructions to her eldest son, Harry.

"Are you sure they can handle it? Will they be discrete?"

"As discrete as me and you were before our marriage."

He raised an answer. Eleanor laughed. "Do not be nervous. I know my children. They will do as they are told."

And they did. Before the sun set on the horizon, her eldest daughter Nor poured an untraceable powder on His Grace of Wiltshire's beer. She watched as he drank the entire mug during dinner, before the Prince of Wales, the second Arthur, sharing joint command over the Duke of Wiltshire's household, ordered everyone to bed, taking his wife and children with him.

Mary caressed her still flat stomach. Her breasts were still tender but roughed since her last coupling. She hated when they were together and she had no one to blame but herself. Were not women the ones responsible behind the world's evils? Could Mary not be held responsible behind her husband's monstrous behavior?

She sunk into a deep depression as the days went by, refusing to see anyone, locking herself in her chambers.

Her husband had become sick and this worked to her advantage when she demanded to be left alone. The only people she allowed entrance into her chambers with their nurses were her sweet darlings Marie Isabella, Catherine, and the beautiful Seymour girls she'd given birth to nearly two years ago and of course her darling boy, her Seymour and Plantagenet beautiful treasure boy –Jasper Edmund Boleyn.

Marie cried at the sight of her mama. "Mama!" It had been days since she saw her and she launched herself at her, spreading her arms for her lady mother.

Mary wrapped her arms around her second eldest Boleyn daughter. She was nothing like her sister. Beautiful, dark haired, and with those wide dark Boleyn eyes, but she had none of that haughty and violent temper. "My baby girl." She cried.

"Mama! I missed you. Anne said you were indisposed, that you were sick. Are you sick mama?" She hoped not. She cried every time her mama was sick.

"Nay, sweetheart I am not." Said Mary shaking her head vigorously and assuring her and the rest of her children that she was well.

"I am glad mama. I cry every time they tell me you can't see us. Can you carry Jasper, mama? Papa says he shouldn't grow too dependent on you but he likes you, I can tell. I always show a miniature of you and he laughs every time he sees it."

"That is wonderful my darling but you must be careful not to let him play with that. It's not a toy and he can choke."

"Oh no mama! I would never do that." Cried Marie, suddenly alarmed that she could have caused her brother's death all those times she went to visit him. When they had been with their lady grandmother, the Queen never said anything. Neither did their great-grandmother, Elizabeth of York. She was always kind and cordial and let them do as they pleased, so as long as they behaved.

Her mother put her down, placing her on the bed next to her and calmed her down. Then she called her son's nurse to bring him to her.

"There you are, my little chum."

"Mama he doesn't like being called chum. He is big but not that big." Said Marie, calling her brother who turned his head to her instead after being called by his full names. "See mama? Look Jaspy, here is your mama."

Jasper looked from his sibling to his mother then back to Marie as if comparing both women.

"Mama when I will have my hair red?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Anne and me used to have red hair. My lady Aunt, Anne, told us."

"Well you are more beautiful with dark hair, and who knows? Look at your mama's siblings. Some started with light hair, they ended up with their hair darkening over the years and many of them are considered handsome."

"But not me. Anne says I am not handsome."

"Do not listen to what your sister says. Anne is spoiled rotten by your father and I would not listen to what your father says either." Mary declared boldly.

Marie gasped and brought both hands to her mouth. "Mama! Papa is going to be so angry if he hears."

I don't care. Mary thought but she merely smiled at her older daughter. She beckoned Cathy and her twin's nurses to come.

Catherine was usually very silent but she began speaking as soon as her mother asked her how she fared. She told her of the mare her papa had given her and also about the gifts her Aunts and Uncles, Nor, Gertrude, Pippa, Emma, Meg, and Harry and Harold, had given her.

"Let us see them." Mary summoned the servants to bring her gifts.

Cathy stepped down from the bed with one of her nurses' help and took one by one presenting it to her mother.

"This is my favorite." She said holding out a rose necklace her older Uncle and Aunt had given to her together. Harry and Nor.

Mary gasped at the craftsmanship. "It is beautiful. You thanked them?" Cathy nodded. "You must thank them again. What else?"

Cathy presented her the others. They were not as impressive. The last one was a doll with fair curls and blue eyes, the complete opposite of her daughter.

"Who gave you this?" Mary asked.

Cathy shrugged. She did not remember. Mary took the doll and gave it to her cousin, who had been her single companion throughout the day, Meg Douglas, and told her to put it on her window seat.

As there was a knock on the door, Mary jumped to her feet, nearly throwing Jasper. She looked at Meg who nodded, terrified as well.

"Take the children, Meg make sure that Marie sleeps in your bed, at least for tonight."

"Yes Mary." Meg told her cousin, nodding her head, taking baby Jasper from her. She opened the doors and curtsied to her cousin-in-law then left Mary's chambers with the nurses and the children trailing after her.

Mary took a deep breath. She was not going to be scared. Her hands fell to her stomach where she felt the life that had been sired violently on her stir uncomfortably. They could feel their mother's distress and for the first time she hoped that her distress would be enough to kill them. It didn't. Their distress ended as their father came and joined his body with their mother's.

* * *

"I thought he was sick." Pippa told their cousin Meg. Nor, their eldest half-sibling, and Meg's cousin was standing next to her. Emma and Gertrude were in their chambers, fast asleep. Emma did not have the stomach for what they were about to discuss, and Gertrude did not care, thinking her part in this game finished.

"He was but he must have recovered." Meg said, lowering her voice as she stepped out of her bedchamber where her niece Marie slept. She became very distressed every time she would hear her mother's weeping at night. She was not as clever as her sister Anne, but she knew what went on behind closed doors and she prayed constantly for her mother. Although her beliefs were not her mother's but her father's, she believed that nonetheless, Catholic or not, God would take mercy on her mother. After all the New Faith preached on love and obedience. It was not the material charity that you gave unto your fellow man but love, and love, she read from William Tyndale's translation of the Sacred Scriptures, was all God required from you.  
She believed that if she were to pray hard enough and love as was commanded of her, the God would heed her prayers and her mother would not have to suffer anymore.

"I thought you gave him the full potion." Pippa said, looking accusingly at her oldest half-sibling.

"I did." She answered. "And it was a powder not a potion. It's not my fault it takes long. Sometimes these things happen."

"Well how long can it take?" Pippa demanded, not willing to spend another day in this hell-hole. This house, this family was nothing but the devil. She liked neither George nor Edward Seymour for her cousin, but by God if the latter managed to bring a smile, she would approve of their liaison.

"I am not an alchemist sister, I did not engineer it, but the man responsible behind its creation told our brother Harry, it should take about a week. In a week all our cousin's troubles shall be solved and yours as well."

"Mine?" She blinked twice.

"Do not play the fool sister. I know that you do not stand spending time in the Boleyn household. You do it because it's your duty but you don't like it. I gather you would not like spending time in the Seymour household?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why do you do it? Why help me and Meg bring about Mary's husband's downfall?"

"Because I hate the Boleyns but I hate the Seymours even more." Pair of wretches slugs and leeches, feeding off the other good people's work. That is how all these new men were. They cared not for rules and what was proper, they simply took what they wanted without a care for anyone they might hurt in the process.

"Then why help us?" Nor insisted.

"Because I am no fool. I know that Mary loves that wretched man and if that man can make her happy then God damn us, so be it! But I will never like him. And if he were to hurt our cousin like his predecessor has every night, I will plunge the knife into his heart myself."

Nor chuckled, a cold, satirical laugh. "My, my sister. I never took you one for theatrics but I guess it must be. Younger siblings are always the more emotional." She turned to Meg taking a small vial from her sleeve, "Make sure Mary takes this in the morning." But Meg shook her head. "It is not poison." Nor reassured her. "It is just something to strengthen the baby. She will need it after what is to come. We do not want more innocents paying for their father's sins." Nor said pointing to the door where Marie slept soundly, unaware of her Aunts' plotting.

"Where are you going?" Meg asked as Nor turned on her heel, heading to the door.

"To sleep. It will be a long night, and fortunately my rooms and Harry's are far from our cousin's, therefore we can enjoy a peaceful night." She said then she disappeared from view.

Meg shifted her glance to her younger cousin. "Are you going to leave too?" She asked Pippa.

"Nay." Pippa shook her head. "I prefer to spend the night here if you do not mind."

"I don't. There is the sette, it's wide and long and I would offer my bed but with Marie sleeping there-"

"Save it Meg, I understand. The sette will do me just fine."

Meg smiled and bid her sister goodnight handing her some spare sheets she found on her bedchamber's closet, then headed to her own bedchamber where her niece still slept soundly.

* * *

A week had past and still no change. Mary's belly continued to grow. As December came and court festivities started, everyone returned to court. But not Mary or George. He claimed he was overcome by his wife's pregnancy and wrote extensively to His Majesty adding that everything indicated she was carrying twins.

The King was overjoyed. And then the other news was brought directly from the Duke and Duchess of Bavaria that his daughter's pregnancy was going well and she pointed to her swollen stomach, proudly boasting.

It had seemed to the entire court that it was fast becoming a family tradition, to birthing royal twins. Everyone joked about it. Soon it would become a fashion, in an attempt to imitate the royal family, every woman would be praying to give birth to twins.

It did not take long for Philip's family to know of his good fortunes. First they had congratulated him for the millionth time on his accession as Duke of Bavaria, then they congratulated him on getting his wife with child on such a short period of time, and then when Anna, the Princess of Wales, had wrote to them informing them of the suspicion that his wife could be giving birth to twins, they send him dozens of presents and congratulations. His brother told him he was the greatest devil and satire he had ever known and asked him for his secret.

Philip chuckled and wrote back to his brother Otto, telling him that there was no secret. He just loved her. He loved her for who she was, he respected her, but most of all he loved her because behind that sweet, pretty suit she wore to please others, there lay a woman that was every bit of calculate, controlling, and cunning as her youngest sibling.

He stopped, putting his pen down and looked at his great-grandmothers-in-law. They had been announced by his majordomo. And he had ignored him for two seconds. Only two seconds to finish his letter, but for him those two seconds were more valuable than any pleasantries they received afterward by this dashing raven-haired, green-eyed German rogue.

"My Ladies, I am terribly sorry for the wait, but I was writing to my brother Otto, he is the Elector Palati-"

He was interrupted by the Lady Wydeville muffled laughter. "I suppose you know then. Ah, can I offer you something? Perhaps you would like to sit down-"

"No." Lady Derby spoke quickly and they remained standing. Philip on the other hand did sit, finding himself suddenly uncomfortable.

"Is there any special reason why you are here, My Ladies?"

"Yes, there is." Lady Wydeville said finally sitting down in the armchair facing him. "We would like to discuss our great-granddaughter with you. As you know she is expecting twins." She said, her voice turning very serious. Hoping he would catch her meaning, unfortunately he did not.

It seems beauty does not equal wits, Elizabeth Wydeville thought. But then again it never did. With men it was a matter of ego and the size of their sexual organ.

"We are very concerned Your Grace over her pregnancy and what will happen after she is widowed." Lady Wydeville added.

Philip cocked his head, not understanding what she implied. "Elizabeth's pregnancy is going fine. In fact, better than fine. I was just writing to my brother Otto that we are expecting twins. He says-"

"Oh dear God." Elizabeth started hiding her face in her hand, shaking her head, and mumbling intelligibly more curses than he ever thought possible. This was the woman that was said to have charmed Edward, the fourth of his name, and made him abandon all thought of the French alliance the Kingmaker had planned for him.  
He could just not fathom a lady so graceful and well-mannered, with such a great ancestry, could say such things.

Lady Derby, the former Lady Richmond and the late King's mother, and the more blunt of the two; spoke. "Your Grace we have not come here to discuss your wife's pregnancy although it is good to know her pregnancy is going as planned and my congratulations to the two of you." Margaret said, practical as ever. "We come here with the welfare of our youngest great-granddaughter, the Princess of Kent, in mind. Your youngest sister-in-law." She stated. After a pregnant pause, she inquired, "You care for her, do you not?"

"Yes, I do." Philip responded, finding himself less intimidated now that the truth was out. And his great-grandmothers-in-law did not have to do much prying to know. Just by looking at the small changes in his facial expression, they knew he'd fallen for the Princess of Kent's charm.

"Then you know of her plight."

"I do, and I would be at your eternal disposition should you need me, to help you liberate her."

The Lady Derby held her hand up. "We do not intend to overwhelm Your Grace with our troubles but you are in the right, we do require your assistance." She confessed, unable to say 'help' because that would be admitting dependence and the Lady Derby was well-known for not depending on anyone, not even her son when he had been King.

"Tell me what I must do and I will do it. I have seen my lady suffer every day I was at Kent, it should be her who wields the scepter of power over her lands and her husband's lands, not the other way around. I believe royalty should be given the respect they deserve."

"Yes, well we differ on that. The old saying 'royalty is like a rose, graceful and solemn, dutiful, and wonderful.'" She chuckled, "Our blood runs red as the filthy urchins the Queen and my daughter-in-law give alms too, thank God that they are not too smart to see it." She added.

"What way can I contribute?" Asked Philip after a short silence. He had never been in the presence of great women, except his Aunt, Anna's mother but she was too ill-tempered and proud for his liking. These women were different. Well-seasoned and having first hand experienced the cruelties of war and the intrigues of the Court, they knew how to act and hot to get what they wanted. Philip asked again after they asked him how he would think it would be best to proceed. "I am not sure if I may be honest with you My Ladies, I have never been in an environment as this one."

"You better get used to, that is what Court is all about. I do not know anything about the German Court, I suppose it must be the same, but you are no longer in Germany, you are in England and in the English court it is all about back-stabbing, arse-licking, and keeping up pretenses. Would you not agree Lady Wydeville?"

"Aye." Elizabeth said, taking the wine goblet that Philip was drinking and emptying it with one single gulp. She knew more than what Lady Derby pretended about back-stabbing. Both women had back-stabbed and back-stabbed each other, yet, they reunited in the end for the sake of their families' survival.

"We desire Your Grace to invite both of Their Graces for the New Year festivities that shall be coming very soon."

"But the roads, most are frozen, and it is very cold, and in her condition I do not think that it would be safe-"

"It will be. I know our Princess, she will not object and neither will her husband."

"How can you be certain of this? The Duke will not want to endanger his wife who is carrying the next heir or heirs if the rumors are true, in her belly." Philip stated.

"That is true but you forget something about the true nature of falcons. They think themselves pure and grand as eagles, they like to soar too high. He will come." Said Margaret with a smile.

* * *

Philip wrote to his cousins, wishing them a merry Christmas and a happy New Year celebration. 'You are in my heart, always' he wrote to Otto then signed 'Philip' and gave it to his servant to deliver. He began writing to the Duke and Duchess of Wiltshire. As the Countess of Derby and the Lady Wydeville had predicted, the falcon had heeded his call.

They could not wait to be in the King's presence. George boasted to everyone his wife's fertility, as if the prowess was his and not his wife's.

Ned Seymour was there, the new Earl of Hertford. He tried speaking to her but she refused. Thankfully one cold night, the coldest Ned thought, of the last days of December he caught her as she walking to her chambers alone. "I need to speak to you."

Mary avoided him and kept on walking, her hands in front of her, joined as if she were praying.

"Mary, I need to speak to you-"

"Please not now, George needs his medicine-"

"Then when damn it?" His voice startled her. He had never raised his voice for her, or for anyone she believed. He was always cold, calculate. Many called him the 'Ice Prince', but he was caring and gentle when he had been with her. This made her step back and she bowed her head down.

Ned could see she was frightened. He placed his hands on her shaking body. "I did not mean to scare you. I just wish to speak to you. Can you not see what he is doing to you? What George is doing to you, to us?" He put two fingers on her chin and raised her face so she would meet his eyes.

"Please let me go." Her voice came to a whisper.

"I love you." He declared, tired of all the pretenses, he kissed her. "Say you love me."

"Please let me go." She pleaded again but his grip tightened around her and he said again, ignoring her whimpers. "Say it!"

"I-I-I-I …" she could not find her voice and broke into sobs. Realizing what he had done Ned let her go, staring down at his hands in bewilderment. She ran back to her chambers where George looked worse than the day they arrived. Nobody knew what afflicted him, although many suspected it could be the early stages of the White Throat and counseled Mary to stay away but she refused. She believed this was all her fault and now God was punishing her through her husband.

What had he done? What was he going to do? What have I become? He wondered aloud as his hands shook. He had been so close to hurting her, the only person he had ever cared for, more than himself, his honor, his family, and his ambitions.

God. He fastened his pace and returned to his apartments. Agnes was there. She had fallen asleep on the sette, her arms wrapped around her favorite book. The Discourse of the Trinity by Peter Abelard. Like so many books in the Queen's diet of books, these were forbidden for commoners. The Boleyns and the others well-to-do 'new' families (along with the royal family) had no problem. They were not entirely commoners despite the lack of wits on their admirers who claimed they were one of them and proclaimed friends of the people.  
Edward took the book from her hands and placed it on the stool, then took Agnes and placed her on her bed. He fell asleep as he sang for her, a smile drew on her lips and he smiled as well. People said that he was not as skilled as other courtiers were in music or poetry as George Boleyn or the more well-cultured Howard. That was probably true, but he knew more about life, books, hard-work than any of them. He kissed her dark head then closed his eyes, letting Morpheus take him.


	35. Chapter VI

They reached Whitehall, which was ablaze this night with lights as the court descended upon the palace by coach and river barge to give their best wishes to the King. This was not just another court function, Yule celebrations, but his daughter had returned after a year absence. Everyone was excited to see the mercurial Duke and his fair Princess once more. However, the surprise they encountered when they found their once handsome Princess hidden behind a veil of pretended happiness, and her husband, the same, shocked them.

Nor put her arm around her brother, Harold. They arrived late, deciding not to follow their cousin's entourage from Hever in Kent. They followed their own rules, it was always so. They remembered very little of their old life. Their father had died when they barely had use of memory, but what they could memory was his voice and his excitement every time he came into the nursery and saw them.

The twins made their entrance.

"The Duke of York," the majordomo's stentorian voice boomed. "and the Lady Eleanor Tudor."

"Madame." Edmund came over to greet them. "Harry, it has been long. I swear you've grown an inch taller."

"Nonsense Uncle, you saw me less than a month ago. I am still the same, a bit more eager I should think of myself and seasoned for battle."

Edmund chuckled. "You are just as your father. Henry was always eager for battle."

"Our mother told him so too. There are rumors that England could be involved in another war." Nor said.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with the affairs of others, it will all work its way through." Edmund told her.

"That is the simplest answer I ever heard Uncle. I think if war breaks out between France and Spain again, England is bound to choose a side."

"We have been in a constant state of hush-hush. I think it's time we picked a side again. War is exciting." Nor said with a chuckle.

Edmund shook his head. "So you say niece, but I pray that your brother never has to witness the horrors I witnessed on the battlefield."

They came upon the King and Queen. They knelt to each in turn then took their seat. George sat in between Nor and Mary. He looks very well, though she, for a man who was supposed to be dying.

The saints may be smiling you tonight Your Grace, but they won't be for long. She would make sure of that.

The celebrations went without much intervention. A little cough here, a little cough there. But George Boleyn showed himself strong as ever. Strong enough to take the Princess of Wales to the dance floor. She shuddered nervously as George took her down. She did not like this man. She had told Arthur that she didn't want him here, but Arthur as the rest were under the command of the King who in turn was under the command of his wife, who wanted all of their family to get along.

How could she think that? Anna thought looking at the Queen who was smiling at her husband and commenting about the decorations and musicians the Duchess of Northumberland had helped bring from France. Her husband had supplanted the late Sir John Seymour in his post as Ambassador. Lady Anne was thrilled and she took a new position as one of Her Majesty's highest councilors. When she wasn't around, Lady Northumberland ruled as if it was her court.

"My Lady, I am glad to see you in such high spirits. Look at you. With child again. You must be very proud."

"I am my lord, very proud. I am glad you noticed." She said with a forced smile. Her stomach had not yet began to swell but her breasts were larger and tender, and some said she was glowing. "And I think Your Grace must be more proud. Your wife is what, three months now?"

George gave a warm chuckle but the Princess of Wales could see past it. "Nay, two, my lady, but I dare say the Boleyn seed is strong. An astrologer from His Majesty predicted that she is carrying twins. My pride and sole joy." He boasted, looking up at the table to his wife, whose glance met his, then he looked away.

"I am very pleased to hear such news. We haven't heard much about you or Her Highness of Kent, we were getting worried."

"Worried?" He creased his brow. "But there's nothing to be worried about. Her Highness and Her Grace is in good spirits and what's more she's done her duty and filled the Tudor nursery and more importantly my nursery with one strong and healthy heir, and another that will no doubt be useful. And now she is carrying two more, I pray to God they are girls."

"Strange notion you have Your Grace. Other men would have prayed for men."

"I am not those men. I am George Boleyn, Duke of Wiltshire and Viscount of Rochford and the happy husband of Her Highness, the Princess of Kent. Girls," he suddenly stopped as they changed partners then resumed as he was back with her again, "are smart and useful. Boys unless they make advantageous marriages are too much of a burden."

"Girls are simply my lady." He finished and bowed to her as the dance had ended. Anne bowed her head in return and together, they returned to the high table.

"Funny how His Grace is." She said to her husband after she told him what he told her. "One minute he chastises his wife, considers her a harlot and subjects her to horrible punishment behind closed doors, and in the next he praises her for her fecundity." She drank from her golden cup. "He is a hypocrite."

"No my sweetest heart, George Boleyn is a fool, a wife-beater, but he is not a hypocrite. Everything he spoke rings true with the renaissance men of our times. His wife is a breeder, that is all she will be to him. That she is good in bed and has opened her legs for his lovers, is an added bonus."

Anna shook her head. She wished that God could hear her prayers and do something to save Mary. But the Princess of Kent had much to answer for as well. The affair was not her doing but she went along with it, as well as everyone else involved, and now she was paying for it. Yet, what George Boleyn was putting his wife through was not punishment but humiliation. He wanted to get back at all the royals for everything they'd done to his family, for everything he had suffered under Mary. He'd been unmanned, humiliated, and cuckolded (although he didn't know it), and now he was exacting his revenge.

Edmund squeezed his fists. His brother Edward, surprised him, resting his hand on his shoulder, reminding him that they were being watched by Her Majesty.

"To hell with Her Majesty. I am not going to let that monster torture my niece."

"Our niece." He corrected after the celebrations had ended and they retired to his chambers. "She is my niece too. Don't think you are the only one that suffers seeing her thus."

"If I were my brother I would have killed that son of a whore a long time ago."

"I would too. Unfortunately though, our dear brother is under Her Majesty's command not to harm the Boleyn boy."

"Why?" Edmund demanded. "What could the Queen possibly care for that wretched bird?"

"A whole deal. You forget she is the daughter of the Catholic Kings and her mother raised her well. She oversaw her education and made certain that she grew up a pious and obedient wife."

"Obedient, my Aunt?" Eleanor interrupted, snorting. Seated across from them in the big sette in Edward Tudor's parlor. She put her book down and walked to them. "She single handedly orchestrated the attack against the Scots in Flodden Field with little intervention from His Majesty's generals. She sent all of you to war and convinced the Council it was the right thing to do because her lord father, my grandfather, had asked her to. I hardly call that obedience. She is impudent, stubborn, and prideful."

"All qualities from an obedient daughter from the House of Tratasmara." Concluded Edward. He shifted his eyes to meet his brother's lighter blue. "I am telling you brother. Let us wait and let us not be too hasty when the right moment comes."

"When will the right moment come? We have waited like the Jews in bondage of Egypt for deliverance too long."

"Let us wait longer." Persisted Edward, "In the end, George Boleyn shall get his upper commence, I guarantee it."

* * *

Mary hurried to her chamber pot. The morning sickness should have stopped but it persisted, as George's cruelty. She had already done her penance, humiliated herself for him. How longer would she have to endure this penance? How long until God forgave her?

George came into their chambers, fully dressed, having woken earlier. "Dress." Was his single command and she obeyed.

She cried that evening, making more excuses to her family why she could not join them on a picnic as they had planned. The days were surprisingly getting warmer despite that it was only the second day of January, but 1536 was a year that promised to be warm and promising, and some were already calling it "the year of the spring".

There was a single knock at the door but she did not answer it. She merely hugged herself, hating herself for her cold feelings regarding her unborn children. _I am sorry. I am sorry I cannot be the mother you want. The mother you deserve but_ …

She stopped herself before she could finish that dangerous thought.

Finally, she answered the door, tired of the incessant knocking. "My Lords," She asked, surprised to see both of her Uncles here "What are you doing here?"

Edward saw at last the extent of George's cruelty. Her face was clear as snow, she was beautiful as ever. Aphrodite reborn, but her eyes had lost their sparkling glow. She was nothing more but an empty shell now.

He took his handkerchief and wiped her tears. "Has he done this to you before? What a stupid question of course he has, but I mean the scars on your back, has he done those?"

"How do you know of them?"

"I can tell by the way you are walking. It's the same walk I had to endure for months." He said with a chuckle. His brother glared at him and their niece shifted her glance at him. "True story. There was this French wench, what was her name? Gina, Georgiana, Emilie, Fleur, Amelie …"

"This is not the time for games." Edmund told him, clenching his fists.

"Amelia, that's right! No wonder I forget. I can't seem to think of that name without thinking of our darling grand-niece, our nephew's only daughter, the Lady Amelia. Left me sour you know for months. I had to use a cane, of course I left her sore for double the time." He finished chuckling.

Mary and Edmund glanced at him with serious looks on their faces.

"Right. Not the time for games. I am terribly sorry." He clapped his hands and they moved on.

They went to her bedchamber where it was a mess. Their niece had trashed everything, including her gowns her mother had given her as a Christmas present eight days ago. They were torn, and some ripped into shreds and thrown out the window. Edmund could see the remnants on the closed windows. Beautiful gowns made of silk and other precious fabrics. Green, silver, gold, blue, with the Red Dragon and the three Lions from the Houses of Tudor and Plantagenet sewn on it.

"I am sorry." Was all Edmund could say as he wrapped his arms around their niece. He looked to Edward, a look of understanding passed between them. They would not wait. They would act now.

Midnight came and upon seeing the mess his wife had created George vent his anger at her. Mary responded with weeping.

"Yes cry, that's all the little Princess knows how to do, cry, cry, cry! Cry for your father, cry for your mommy. Well my dear," he said as she tried to escape him, grabbing her wrist and tossing her to the bed. "Your darling lady mother won't be your knight in shining armor and His Majesty won't be making an appearance any time soon. Did you not hear? He is too busy brooding over this business of possible war, he has to decide which side he will favor or if he will favor any side at all. He does not have time for his Tudor brat."

"My lord father always has time for me."

"No sweetheart he has time for his other children, your Tudor siblings who were smart enough to be humbled down by their spouses and their husbands unlike you!" He threw her from the bed and she was fortunate she fell on what was left of her mother's presents, to soften her fall and prevent her from damaging the children inside her.

"Please George, I have given you everything. I am sorry I was … I was …"

"Unfaithful? Disloyal? No better than a harlot, no better than Lady Wydeville." That hit a chord.

She perked her head up and looked up, her eyes blazing furiously at him. "How dare you speak of my lady great-grandmother." she said in a deadly voice. She rose and raised her voice. "She was Queen when your mother was still in your grandfather's breeches. She was the first of her kind to become Queen, she and not your sister, not you, was the first commoner ever to become Consort of a royal lord. She has nobler blood cursing in her veins than you will ever have. You are nothing but a stain of grease on my family and you have cursed our children with your evil. I see that now. No amount of prayer can make me atone for my sins with you or Lord Hertford."

"So you would rather run to him then, is that it? Do you want me to bring him here because I can, I can make him bend the knee and make him take you, maybe then you will love me because God only knows I have done what no husband ought to have done and loved his wife!"

"Yes,_ loved_. You did love me once. But you let your greed and your quest for power overcome your desire to be with me. Don't you realize George? You've become everything you hated. You vowed never to turn into a man as your father was but you've turned into him and no one regrets it more than I do because that's not the man I fell in love with. I loved the boy who defended me, who wrote poems to me, who vowed he would always protect me. I loved that sweet boy. I ask you again, no, I implore you –bring that boy back to me. That boy who was so dear to my heart."

He stood still. There was some vain hope that she could have stirred in him those old feelings, and rekindled the flame of their marriage during its first years. But she was disappointed.

He advanced to her and Mary took steps back until her back met the wall. "I loved you. I gave my soul, everything just to be with you. I kissed you, I made love to you, not because I was told to, but because I loved you and how do you repay my love? By spreading your legs to the Seymour wolf." Mary whimpered as he buried his nails into her skin, gripping her shoulders tightly. "I could have forgiven you everything, even bearing that man a child, I would have forgiven it. But this, this, I can never forgive you. You've turned my love into hatred, you refused to obey one simple order because to you I was nothing more than a stain of grease on your royal line. And you are right." He said letting her go only to slap her so hard that she fell on the floor. "But even a stain can be powerful enough to make royal blood bend the knee."

* * *

Nor smiled evilly as George chastised his wife; she dumped the contents of the powder on his tonic. By nightfall he would drink this and it would render him so weak once he woke that he would not be able to defend himself against her father and Uncle's assault.

* * *

True to her scheme, when George Boleyn woke the next morrow, he was very weak he could barely stand.

Edward and Edmund smiled to themselves. They came into his bedchamber as hounds in the night. Only it was day and everyone was in the royal cottage their brother had built for when he wanted to host private celebrations for his family and the most important members of his family.

More like Royal House –considered Edward, the Duke of Gloucester who, having seen the cottage, thought of it more as a mansion.

"My lords, why are you here?" Cried George seeing them enter. Then it dawned to them as Edward took out a vial his niece Nor had given him and dump it on his cup along with his tonic.

George did not have time to cry out for help, Edward forced the cup on his lips and closed his lips, forcing him to gulp it down.

"My lords, mercy! Why are you doing this?" Edmund answered him with his fist. "Stop!" George cried but Edmund punched him again and again, this time in his stomach, until George was coughing up blood.

"You took something very precious from us, now we are going to pay you back for what you did to our niece." Continued Edmund, giving him his last punch, leaving George to cry in pain.

Edward complained to Edmund he did not leave him enough to have fun with. But seeing the wretched bird's attempt to rise, Edward delivered the last blow, kicking him in his gut.

"Consider yourself served." He said, then he and his brother left his chambers and told the servants they bribed to clean the blood and make sure everything was ready for when everybody returned from the royal cottage.

* * *

Mary barely smiled at her mother. She asked Anna if she thought she would have another boy, or if she wanted another girl. Anna smiled, and with her ever-pleasant smile and tone she told Mary that she'd be delighted if she had another daughter, "But," she said, "it will be whatever God wills."

"Of course. I pray however that you be blessed with many daughters as it is your wish." Mary told her, remembering what Anna had told her that she wished to have as many children as possible, and most of them girls.

Anna thanked her for her good thoughts and returned to her meal.

She had given her something very serious to consider, she realized. For the first time it dawned on the Princess of Wales, of her position as mother to England's future King and Princes, and Princesses and maybe someday, Queens of Europe. She never realized how much power she had and how much power she wielded just by her womb alone. She smiled, a new smiled, filled with new ambitions and hopes as her hand fell to her (yet) flat stomach.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, Six Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser, and Sister Queens by Julia Fox. Inspiration taken from Once Upon a Time Season 2 Finale (yep, Sarah Bolger in it, she's returning I hope as Aurora next season), Godfather, and GOT.**


	36. Chapter VII

Ralph Sadler was sent to France as part of the new embassy to place Lord Northumberland. Everyone was surprised to hear of George Boleyn's death. The French King and Queen expressed their deepest condolences and sympathies to the poor widow and her family. Truth be told though, there was nothing sad about George Boleyn's death. George Boleyn was a wretched man had turned incompetent losing half of his wife's dowry and purse in vanities, foolish enterprises, and gambling. Everyone was relieved when they heard the news. (Everyone, that is, in the royal family).

There were a few who would disagree his death was a blessing to society. Among them His late Grace's family and his mother-in-law who had shed the tears his widow had forgot to shed on his funeral.

They interred him on February 16th, two days before Her Grace and Highness' birthday. It was a sad day in England, filled with hypocrisy and false tears. Her Highness acted the part really good however, no sooner was she free, could she not avoid looking at her next spouse-in-waiting.

Ralph chuckled, remembering the raucous it had caused on the palace. Before he arrived to his scheduled appointment with His Majesty, the Queen was already there, waiting for her husband as well. She demanded to know what his business was. Ralph calmly told her and afterwards witnessed her expression change from one of pure calmness to pure rage.

She wheeled to her husband once the doors opened and vent her anger at him. How dare he do this without consulting her? His Grace Northumberland, she said was a good man. He could not do this to him and besides, she added, his wife had been a good administrator of her court and her states. Yet her husband would not be dissuaded, he handled the situation gracefully, maintaining calm and easing his wife's worries with the promise that his services would not be forgotten. What he meant by this Ralph Sadler didn't know. He could think of a few posts the King might give him, but all of them had been occupied by new men. Men who did not possess an ounce of noble blood in their veins, and who were not haughty or prideful as their predecessors had been. Men who'd earned their posts with the sweat of their brow and through hard labor, as men of their standing and their families had been used to all their lives.

They knew nothing of pride or purity of blood. Some of them had even despised George Boleyn and his family because they had once assumed the role of "new men" and then, when they had been on top, forgotten all about them.

These men, such as Cromwell, Seymour who had been familiar to the Court and royal service all his life, knew what hard labor was all about. They were loyal to their purse and to themselves and as long as the King was the highest bidder, they would work diligently.

Ralph met with King of Scotland, His Majesty's nephew, James, the fifth of his name, of House Stuart on February the twenty first. He was received by the King and Queen as well, the latter who was his Aunt expressed her joy in seeing him and remarked how much he looked like his mother.

The twenty three year old soon to be twenty four, greeted them all with a smile, charming everyone in the French Court, including His Majesty's youngest daughter, Princess Marguerite.

"Master Sadler."

"Your Majesty."

"I have called on you for information regarding my cousin, the Princess of Kent, Her Grace of Wiltshire, Mary. You know what has become of her? I remember hearing that my Uncle is already arranging a betrothal." He started, sitting on his chair behind his desk. He rested his arms on the arms of his chair, and calmly continued, "Is this true? I wonder because my Uncle and my lady mother had chided me on the sanctity of marriage after my lady had complained to His Majesty that I was mistreating her."

He leaned forward and placing his hands on the desk. "I wonder, is this the attitude of a prudent monarch? He allows one daughter to remarry so soon after her period of mourning is not yet over, and he chides me for my behavior?"

"Well?" He asked after his Uncle's ambassador remained silent, leaning back against his cushioned armchair and spreading his arms. "Is this true? Do you consider it fair?"

"I speak not for my master's actions, Your Majesty, I only know what he's told me, my opinion I keep it to myself and to God."

"Spoken like a true loyal servant, a heretic at that." James said, his lips curling into a smile. "I am not blind Master Sadler. I know all about the salacious rumors against me, I will not pretend that I do not know for I do, nor will I feign innocence for I am no innocent." He chuckled placing his left arm on his desk, tapping his fingers on the fine wood. Let no man say that James was not a lover for luxury, thought Ralph Sadler. He had that in common with his Uncles, the late Henry Tudor, Duke of York, and Edward Tudor, the present Duke of Gloucester. He wondered if his vanity would be such that he would steal the Princess Marguerite, whisk her away like many of his border lords had done with good English maidens and rob her of her maidenhead. It was not unheard of. Their common ancestor, Henry II of England had done so with his son's first bride, the Princes Alais of France.

It was too much of a risk, Ralph didn't consider him capable of.

"Another commoner in the family." Commented James after Ralph continued to remain silent, but his expression gave him away. "I am not here to accuse but let us be frank, we are in the Kingdom of the Franks after all." He added with a chuckle. "I was not yet married when my mistress Lady Douglas bore me a son, a son I might add that thrives while my lady wife has given me nothing but dead babies and only a daughter to inherit my throne."

"Scotland will have a fine Queen then. Mary, the first of her name, will be make a fine Queen."

"Yes, a fine Queen. Perhaps if this Castile or Portugal, there would be no trouble but this is Scotland were it not for the chieftains perhaps I would overlook that but the chieftains will never accept a woman as their anointed sovereign."

"Your Majesty, England has had fine Queen Regents. And you've left your mother as Regent in your absence and your wife as co-Regent, your daughter has good women to teach her how to rule and she will certainly take after her father."

"She certainly does." Agreed James, who wanted to test the English Ambassador. He was smart this one, not self-indulging as his predecessor, yet he was still a rookie and he lacked the experience Northumberland possessed. "But does my Uncle mean his threats? Does he mean to threaten with his infant warden of the east to raid my borders? What will he do? Steal a few cattle, burn a few villages? My Uncle likes to deal in few; I like to deal in many numbers." He stated, suddenly he grew serious.

Ralph Sadler reminded him of the last Scottish-English skirmish. "Your Majesty was halted by His Majesty, your Uncle, six-thousand men. That is only a handful of His Majesty's troops. Next time, should there be a next time, His Majesty will be obligated to send more." He paused then licked his lips and resumed. "You must understand Your Majesty, that there is nothing my master will not do to protect his borders. He abhors wars, the thought of shedding blood, even neighboring blood is abominable but should Your Majesty provoke him and continue to let your chieftains raid our Northern borders, he will find himself in the necessity to retaliate, nephew or no nephew." He stated. "My master values the security of his people above all, including blood relations."

"Well then," responded James with a sly grin, "if that be the case let's talk no more of it."

He ordered wine and fruit to be brought.

"What is your opinion then on my cousin's betrothal? Do you think she will accept it?"

"I know not yet enough to give my opinion on the matter, that is if I was free to do so, which I am not Your Majesty." He stated.

James gave a quick laugh. "Smart man, you have your wits around you. Good men do bad things, bad men do good things. I've seen it happening. There is nothing more than I hate than hearing people whisper Boleyn was a good man, Boleyn was an evil man, his wife turned him into an evil monster, his wife was innocent. We are all evil in this world to these ignorant people's standards, these people who make the claims are truly idiots."

"Your Majesty is blunt but may I be blunter? I think your assessment of the common people is harsh."

"No, it is just and you are mistaken, it is not the commoners I am talking about but the young people. You know, my generation. Young, foolish idiots who think of building heroes of their fallen ones. Boleyn had many admirers, all of them ignorant to his nature. They will be quick to condemn his successor, claiming wolves are nothing but evil. I can hear it now, Edward, Thomas, and all the Seymours be evil ambitious whore-mongers, but what about the Boleyns, are they not the same? Or are these idiots so crest-fallen that their fallen hero was handsome, dark and alluring whereas the others are not." He drank from his golden cup. "I have a vague memory but from what I have seen during my brief encounter with Lord Hertford when I met him on your Northern borders, he is not at all bad looking. Of course what the young women consider handsome is very different from what a man my age would consider handsome and the English have always been known for their imbalance."

"Your Majesty is still young. Only three and twenty."

"Aye, but I will not be young for long and so I have to indulge myself before I die. Tell my Uncle that I shall accept his demands." He said "I will treat his daughter with all the respect she deserves and for further proof, I shall do this. I will consent to his demands and name my daughter my heir and make all the chieftains and lords in parliament swear allegiance to her."

"Your Majesty is gracious!" Exclaimed Ralph Sadler who couldn't believe his luck. No other ambassador had been so lucky. He could not wait to brag about it when he returned to England and report about it to His Majesty. "But," halted the King holding his hand up, seeing the man's eyes dancing with triumph, "in the event my wife bears me a son, a healthy living son," he emphasized, "I will crown him immediately and make him my co-Regent and invest him as Duke of Edinburg and many other titles befitting the future King of Scotland."

"Of course Your Majesty I agree but crown him? Forgive me, but you lost me there."

"What? It is not unheard of. My ancestor Henry II crowned his eldest son before his death, and true it led to many troubles thereafter but unlike Henry II, Scotland would not dare declare for an infant son, especially when too much blood has already been shed for his predecessors." James stated. Starting with his father and grandfather and ending with him, he hoped.

Ralph Sadler agreed on all the King of Scotland's conditions. He had no choice, it was either this or nothing. He wrote to His Majesty on his agreement and the King receiving the letter a week later, wrote back agreeing to James' goodwill.

* * *

Elizabeth was put at ease when her husband returned a month later in the spring. Thank God, thought she, as she watched her one year old daughter play in her grandmother's arms. Margaret enjoyed playing with her granddaughter. She boasted to everyone how the little Princess reminded her of herself when she was her age.

Elizabeth looked away.

_It's better this way_, she tried to convince herself. Better the child never knew the truth. Besides, did she want to destroy her marriage like her sister foolishly had done?

**No.** _It's _**better **_this way_, she told herself more convincingly turning her attention back to grandmother and granddaughter.

"Papa." The little Princess of Scotland, and heir apparent, and only legitimate child of the King Scotland said, opening her arms expectantly as she spotted her father.

"My lovely little mare. How fares you?" Asked James taking his daughter from his mother's arms. This one is strong. Stronger than his precious son whom he favored above all his bastards, Jamie.

"Me be fine papa." Said she slowly trying her best not fail at her speech. James smiled proudly and praised his mother and his Queen for their good work.

He looked at Elizabeth who was pregnant again. _Perhaps_ it was not too late to hope. They were still young, had Master Sadler not said so? They could still have many bairns, boys, he hoped.

* * *

Mary received her father in the parlor of Hever where the Boleyns had retired. "Have you any news on my mother? Does she approve?" She asked all at once.

"No, she doesn't sweeting and I am afraid it will be long before she accepts your union."

"But Mistress Seymour was a good lady to me and she is a good lady to Bella whom she now serves."

"Sweeting I know this but your mother … well … you can't stop sixteen years of rearing which is the years she spent in Spain before she came to England to wed me."

"But it's not fair." Pouted Mary. "I love him." She insisted. Her last days with George had made her see that and although it had taken her time to overcome her guilt, she saw the death of her husband as divine retribution for everything he had done, and for everything she had done. For truth be told, she had loved George. Loved him with all her heart and when she heard he'd been struck with fever then confirmed it had been the white throat, giving impediment to his speech, she had nursed him. Even prayed for him, hoping that God would not take him. But it was as if the fates had not heard her or they had willed his demise because not matter how much tonic she gave him, how much she nursed him, death remained set on to have him.

It was not easy the days following his funeral. His father had announced that she was cutting his daughter's period mourning short, and that he intended her to remarry. And not shortly after that he had recalled the Duke of Northumberland and sent him back on his lands while he allowed his wife to remain in her mother's service. Yet her mother and her sister-in-law had raged but to no avail. This time, her father's commands would not be challenged by his wife.

"_I have allowed you many liberties Madame."_ He'd told her when her lady mother came into her chambers before she left for the carriage that would take her to Hever in Kent, the seat of Boleyn powers. And hers –now she realized the power she wielded, not just as a widow, but as a Princess, a femme sole with her own title, her own lands. And nothing, absolutely nothing, not even a husband, could take that from her now. This time she vowed, it would be different.

Her mother had left in a fury, the black skirts of her gown flying behind her, giving the impression of an avenging angel.

Her father assured her that she would not trouble her and he would see to it, that she accepted the betrothal for not doing it, would mean not only a breach in etiquette but also a breach in their marriage, and he was way past that.

Mary had always admired her mother. To her she was the Virgin Mary, the Queen of Heaven personified, but only now did she realize her mother was flawed and not the saintly woman she always pictured. Her father in contrast had matured and was now King, full King and was taking care of matters that no longer needed his wife's seal of approval. With his new councilors, Mary considered, he hardly needed to. His new lord of the privy seal, newly made Baron Cromwell, had proved to be an excellent replacement and he was a brilliant politician. Practical and Mary suspected from what she remembered to his visits to Beaulieu and Hever, a Reformist, but a clever one at that who put country first above any faith, including his own.  
Her father's reign and his government was in good hands.

"Do you think she will ever change? If she were to see him?" But her father shook his head.

"Your mother is your mother sweetheart and it is hard to change those attitudes, besides this is you we are talking about, your future, and I could not have chosen a better husband."

"You mean I let you choose him for me."

Arthur chuckled and pulled his daughter to an embrace. "My darling sweetheart, you are always the spitfire. Never change my darling heart, a man might be your lord but women my sweetheart can also rule over men just as easy as they rule over our hearts and you my darling have never failed in ruling over many hearts. I know he will make you happy and I expect I shall see you and my son-in-law-to-be many times at Court." He said with a wink.

"Father! You know that is not yet for us to decide." Mary said, not believing she had actually used the word 'us' instead of his or her. For the first time she had not made her desires her first priority or her husband-to-be's priority her first priority.

"No? You are right it is not but I'm very fond of your husband my daughter, and let us be honest, I am not getting any younger."

"Father, nonsense, you are still young and in better shape than all the young men at court."

"More than your golden wolf?" Mary blushed. Arthur laughed at his youngest daughter and cupped her chin turning her head in his direction to face him. Dark grey eyes met equally dark ones. "

"You do love him. I know you do. It is the same look I had on my face when I saw your mother. Unlike you, I knew what I wanted just as my father, my problem and I think your mother is too humble and graceful to admit it. I was too shy to admit it." Said the oldest Arthur, reminiscing of that time when he and his father had rode to meet his Spanish bride. Doña Elvira, her dueña at the time, had forbidden it, stating that it was against regulation. But one look from his father mad the domineering woman retreat. Seconds later his bride came and his father took down the white veil covering her face. What he saw fascinated him, like a pair of star-crossed lovers; they knew that their paths had been preordained.  
He had never been religious but he believed that God had willed their union. There was no other explanation to how he felt. His brother who was also a scholar although he often dwelled with his conscience on religious matters that Arthur saw no point in, believed that God had meant Katherine rather for him. As the years went by and they found Harry a bride, his brother changed his mind and overcame his fancy for his brother's wife.  
How young we once were –thought Arthur. He pushed those thoughts away before he lost himself more in the past.

"He is shy as well. From what I have been told, your husband-to-be is extremely shy but not afraid to take a challenge. It is an interesting mask he puts on. Shy in nature but determined and cold to others."

"Only to those who cannot read him well. I have been … well … close to him and I can tell you he is shy but determined and hardworking, he is not a clerk but he is more educated than any man, old and young, and any scholar in your Court, father."

"I do not doubt his capabilities but this time my sweet daughter, if your husband hurts you, I will crush him with my boot."

"Mother will not object this time."

"Yes well, your lady mother will have much to reflect on."

"I hope you do not intend to make her punishment permanent. My mother was born for politics, father. It is in her blood and besides despite her obvious favoritism she has more experience and Lady Anne, also has vast experience ruling a household."

"After all this, you still speak in your mother and that high lady's favor?"

"Of course. Whatever happened, happened and I had my part to play in it as well. I cannot change the past nor can I pretend that I am not responsible for George's death. Had I been more respectful, he would not have fallen ill. It was brought on him by the stress that I put him on-"

"Sweetheart don't start-" But his daughter persisted, her tone imperious.

"No, father, 'tis the truth. I did that, I helped in his corrosion but unlike my lady mother I will not spend the rest of my life mourning in what could have been or might not. We all make mistakes, we all must pay for them but once we do, we cannot sit by and close ourselves to the world. It may work for a few, my lady mother believes that is what I must do, but it is not what I believe. The Lady Anne is a good administrator and she is loyal to my lady mother. You must keep her and let her oversee the preparations for fettes and entertainments when my lady mother is not around, and you must still leave my mother as Regent when you are absent –with Arthur as co-Regent of course. Who better to teach him than her? And what better way to learn how to rule?" She stated, a smile dancing on her lips as his father gave an open and proud smile.

"Good Lord child, why were you not born a boy? What a fine King you would have made."

"I dare say I would have. But that we will never know. Arthur however is your heir and he has proven himself to you and the Court many times. The Court of Sessions he has administered it with a just and firm hand. Wales has not given you troubles since you appointed him sole ruler after you dissolved the Council of Wales two years ago. Look at all the progress he's made."

"Aye, I do not doubt that. Though your lady mother, and do not look at me with that face, disapproves of the exclusive treatment he's been given to heretics."

"They are not heretics father."

"Don't tell me you are warming to them too."

"Nay, never!" Declared Mary. "But," she lowered her voice in case they be heard, "I do understand why they would turn to Luther or Calvin or any other false prophet. Besides, it's not our role to be judges, that is God's work and God's work alone. Arthur has dealt with his people as he's seen fit and the people love him for it. The Welsh shout at him Cadwallader whenever he tours the countryside with Anna."

"He is your heir." Mary concluded then linking her arm with his as they went for a stroll in Hever's gardens.

Arthur shook his head. "He is my father's heir." He stated thinking his son was the true son of the House of Tudor, and the true Tudor heir.

* * *

Edward took the pendant he intended to give Mary the night after their wedding to be with him, placing it underneath his pillow as a good luck charm. Although he did not believe in such things, he believed in her, in their love, in their passion. He did not know what enchantment had caused this, but the air around her was toxic, he could not stand a day without her. He longed for her, and he wanted to kiss her, to make love to her and to ravage her until their bodies melted and their spirits exploded like struck by a cosmic force, and they became one.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, notes, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, and Six Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser. Inspiration taken from GOT, OUAT, and White Queen (clips).**


	37. Wheel of Fortune

**Author's Note: Sources taken from Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Wikipedia, notes, and Tudor Age by Jasper Ridley. Inspiration from Storm of Swords and Feast for Crows by George R.R. Martin, White Queen (clips), and Bertrice Small's historical romances.**

**Chapter VII, small correction, it was *not* Princess Madeleine James V was attracted but _Princess Marguerite_, so it reads the _King's youngest daughter_ instead of the King's oldest, since Madeleine is already taken by Prince Ferdinand Tudor.**

* * *

"They call him Wickedness at Court, but you know that." Edmund said, not realizing that said man was walking into the palace, in a hurry to meet his brother and not only congratulate him on his betrothal but on his as well. A Princess for him and a Prince's daughter for him. Life could not be better!

"So two of our daughters to marry Seymours." Commented Arthur with a chuckle as he watched the couple strolling in the gardens, holding hands, "Were we not young once? It seems so long ago." He said with a heavy sigh.

Edmund patted his brother's back. "You are still young brother, you were always young at heart but you've always loved more than the rest of us."

"I dare say you put that to the test. It did not come easy convincing Katherine to let you marry our brother'swidow."

"That was you? I thought it was her, I was always under the impression it was her."

"Nay brother, Katherine did not agree. It was too incestuous for her and she told our lady grandmothers so but what do you know? Tudor charm." Both men laughed.

"Why, I will be damn. Here is wickedness." Edmund said as Thomas came to join his older brother and his betrothed.

It was a mad world. Mary had married George Boleyn for their sake, to be kept England. They always wanted one of their daughters to be kept here, they chose Mary because they knew she was the best of them. But looking back Arthur realized that everything that had happened had been his fault. He had not been man enough to challenge his wife's decision and his grandmother's interventions, Lady Derby and Lady Wydeville's as well.

Now everything was settled. Yet, Arthur could not help but feel small comfort as so many had been hurt in this process.

* * *

**Wheel of Fortune**

Elizabeth struggled with the birth. She prayed it was a boy. Please let it be a boy –she prayed desperately.

God answered her prayers.

" 'Tis a boy!" Cried the midwife then she gave the child to the other midwife and helped the Queen's ladies dress her in clean clothes . Elizabeth looked at her mother-in-law and nodded to her.

James came moments later with a smile on his face. "A son" he chanted as he was presented with his longed-for-heir. This was his son, the future King of Scotland.

Throughout Scotland, huge bonfires were erected for the celebration of a new Prince. A Prince who, many hoped, would live to adulthood.

The Queen was not so lucky. Not soon after she'd given birth, she'd been struck by fever. Her condition was dire and everyone prayed she would recover but she bore no such luck.

On June the tenth she was buried in Holyrood Abbey, two weeks after the premature birth of her son. She had paid the ultimate price. James' longed-for-son had come at a cost.

* * *

In England, the royal family mourned. Arthur wept because he knew that not only he had lost a daughter but he had also lost the piece of a puzzle that he had intended to use after Elizabeth's great triumph to bring his nephew into his good graces. Now he had nothing. James would see the child grew in his own way and image, and Scotland, no one knew for sure how long after the King's mourning period was over, would remain England's friend.

Mary had given birth to a healthy set of twin girls. She named them after their grandmother, George's mother and her great-grandmothers, Elizabeth and Margaret. They were only two days old when she heard the news of her sister's days. Her churching was not yet over. She longed to be with her family to bring them comfort. She knew her mother would be distraught and her father was probably mourning the loss of his much-sought-for-alliance. His plans would be ruined, Mary knew who'd been told by Bess through the letters they wrote constantly to each other, that the alliance between England and Scotland would not last long.

She looked down at the brooch her husband had given her and her eyes widened as she looked closer. Could this be true? She was not superstitious but she believed in the power of dreams. They had warned her of George before she married him. She had dreamed of a falcon ripping a lioness' eyes and feeding off her carcass. At the time it meant nothing. Did this mean then that her dream of her jewels melting into pearls signified her sister's death? She shook her head. Impossible. It could not be. She would have seen another sign. Yet … there was another possibility, one she was not able to accept, so she went along with her first conclusion.

* * *

Anna welcomed Thomas Seymour on Wales. She knew he had been courting Gertrude Somerset for some time now. Anna expected he would agree to her terms. "His Majesty has his own, I am certain, but me and my husband have ours. I hope you agree, Sir Thomas."

"I do, Your Highness and nothing will make me happier then make my Lady of Somerset happy." He said, bowing his head low, unable to avoid her piercing gaze.

How much she had changed since her last child –another daughter, and she was pregnant yet again. She was no longer the meek, servile German Princess, but a woman who was domineering and whose presence commanded respect and demanded obedience.

She showed him to his betrothed's quarters. Personally, he felt nothing for her. She was beautiful, she was smart, not a clerk as her sister, but smart enough to put other women to shame. But that was it. He felt nothing but respect for her. To him, she was his answer, his climb to the social ladder, and the antidote to his nightmares. Since the Queen of Scotland had died, he could not help but dream of her, their time together and he often wondered of their child. Was she loved? Was she healthy? He was told she was, but he wanted to see it himself.  
He had squirted bastards in many women's bellies, high and lowborn, and yet, she was the only woman he felt remorse for.  
I will never see her grow. _It's better this way_, a voice in his head said. His daughter was a Princess and beloved by her _father_, King James. Her brother, Henry Stuart, would continue to take care of her after their father passed away.

His chain of thought was broken by Lady Somerset's courteous voice. They curtsied then Anna turned and locked the doors behind them, leaving them alone.

"My lady," he started, "I supposed you know why I am here."

"I do and I am very pleased." Gertrude said. "I accept your proposal my lord and worry not about my dowry or the marriage contract for my father has already drafted it and he will be arriving shortly for you to sign it."

Thomas nodded, feeling numb. He looked at the Duke of Somerset, Prince Edmund Tudor's oldest daughter, Gertrude Tudor. She possessed the same grace and features of her late cousin, his lover, but she had none of her good-natured smile or her kind eyes.

"If that is all my lord-" She started but he interrupted her, shaking his head. "What is it? Have you have any news of my cousin, Her Highness Mary?" She asked, her face showing consternation, praying to God that nothing had happened to her.

"No, my lady," he said, reading her thoughts, with a small smile. "Her Highness is fine, in fact, Her Grace now is better than fine."

"Her Grace? You mean His Majesty made Lord Hertford a Duke?" Thomas nodded. This was interesting, she probed more. "Of what? What of his old titles?"

"He still gets to keep them," he said as a matter-of-fact, "However as you might have guessed his new titles shall take precedence over them. His Majesty has given my brother the Dukedoms of Lancaster and Richmond and has increased his annuity tenfold." He said, this last an exaggeration but it proved successful enough to impress the Lady Gertrude.

Her eyebrows rose. Her Uncle was truly generous. But it was to be expected, Lord Hertford worked more diligently than any other member of the Privy Council and Parliament, and he was the only one who earned his governorship and posts thanks to his hard works and not because he had been married to His Majesty's daughter. All of them, he had earned them before he married them.

She smiled at Sir Thomas. "Congratulations Sir Thomas. So it seems I shall not marry a simple Baron, brother of a common Earl." Gertrude said in high mock, coming forward.

Thomas did not recede but neither did he act on his passions. She was curious. She wanted to know how it felt to kiss a man. He let her and for her sake responded, giving her exactly what she wanted. When it was over none of them said a word but there was an understanding in their eyes. Both were practical people, she more than him, and they knew that this was nothing more than a marriage of convenience and both were happy with it, though Thomas detected a hint of disappointment in her dark grey eyes.

* * *

One year had passed and Mary's belly had swelled. Anna had given birth to her fifth and sixth child. As she promised, she would give her husband a litter of children and there was nothing to stop them. Her husband ruled Wales and for the first time she ruled with him and she was learning the ways of politics, the ways of men and this excited her and ignited the flame of passion in their marriage bed.

Mary knelt before the altar, praying for a safe delivery. She had given birth so many times, not as much as Anna but still she felt it was many, so much in fact that she had lost count. This, Mary smiled to herself after she rose and brought her fingers to her forehead making the sign of the cross and ending her prayer with "Amen", would be the first of hers and Edward's children to be born in wedlock.

"You will love your new home. Your father will teach you everything, you will grow just like him." Mary whispered after she got home and rested her feet on the huge bed. Her confinement had started and she rarely got out of her chambers except for Mass or visited Church to pray for herself and the child like today.

She felt the adrenaline moving through her veins as she thought back to Edward. They had broken the rules so many times that they no longer cared. What was one more? He had introduced her to pleasures that she did know they existed. She doubted he even knew, but she could tell he was curious and when he came down to explore, Mary felt like she was fire, like she was about to burst. Mary cried from the top of her lungs, begging him not to stop but he did after he received her tribute and then it was her turn.

Edward came to her chambers that night. He asked her what she prayed for. She chuckled and kissed him, driving her hand to his breeches where she felt his member grow under her touch. "You know better than to ask those things my lord …" she chided.

"Witch," he said then brought his arms around her and brought her on top of him.

"What punishment will you exact from me, my lord?" She asked, purring in his ear as her lips descended to his neck, suckling on his delicate skin. He was hard as a warrior, but his skin was so soft, and his touch so tender. She felt she would melt if she continued.

"You shall see my fair lady." He said grinning wickedly and he slowly brought her down where his member lay trapped by the fabric of his breeches. She released it from his trappings and began suckling, sending his mind reeling.

"Ahhhh … ahhhh!" He screamed, clutching on the sheets tightly as she moved her tongue faster, tasting every inch of him. He panted, his heart beating fast. He closed his eyes as violent spams spasm shook his body then pressed his head hard against the soft mattress as she sucked on eagerly. And then his climax came, and he let himself go, swimming in an ocean of stars as his entire being was being consumed.

Mary came up and brought him back giving him the kiss of life. He'd felt swallowed, her tongue touched his giving him the boost he needed. Her hands explored his chest, coming down again. "You promised me punishment. I am sorely disappointed." She teased, giggling as he gave her an open smile after he took one of his nipples into her mouth and left a trial of kisses all the way down …

"Perhaps my lord husband needs another dose?" Knowing what she was about to do, he opened his mouth to voice protest but the delicious feel and soft caress of her lips against his member were too hard to resist so he lay back and let her take him once more.

* * *

Lady Wydeville put on her armour. Her charm, her experience, her cloak and daggers, and strolled with Lady Derby to their grandson's audience chamber. They were given a special mission. One very simple but very important to them. They were to go to Beaulieu in Hampshire and assist their great-granddaughter in giving birth. They accepted without question. Mary was extremely dear to them.

Elizabeth saw a widow, a widow whose heart was filled with passion but harbored dark secrets, secret ambitions as Elizabeth's had once done. Her marriage to George first then to Edward was no coincidence. She was the only one of her family's line that had her mother Jacquetta and her line, the Roxemburg, strength. Her heart was wild and indomitable and Elizabeth believed that this proud peacock, this dashing and bold wolf was the only able to satiate her thirst.

Margaret, the Lady Derby, saw it differently. There was ambition in her but that useless husband of hers, George Boleyn, had nearly drained it from her. It was only a matter of time, the late King's mother, considered, before it resurfaced. Once she had her twins, she and His Grace would be back at Court and in Court they would all see the true face of their beloved Princess of Kent.


	38. Chapter One

"You are a wicked wench," Ned teased kissing her eyes.

"My lord!" She laughed. "Our children might see us."

"Nay sweeting they are our children now. I will love you, I shall love all of your children as if they were mine."

"Some of them are yours." She said in a lowered voice. Just then Agnes came running with Tom and Heinrich tagging along.

"Father, father look!"

"What darling heart and don't forget to curtsy to your new lady mother." Agnes did so then gestured to her father to look where she was pointing. Edward did and so did Mary and both gasped.

It was a wolf, not a dog or a German Shepherd like the ones Bella had in her home that Philip had given her, but a giant white wolf.

She hugged Agnes and told Thomas and Heinrich to come. "Get inside" she told them. She turned to Susan, who had since her marriage to Edward, been restored to her service. "Take them inside and fetch the guards."

"No lady mother wait-"

"No buts, take them inside Susan. Now." Mary's voice left no room for discussion. Agnes face dropped as she and Tom grabbed each a hand of the Princess' chief lady-in-waiting, and Heinrich followed them.

Mary stared carefully at the wolf. Edward tried to avoid making eye-contact as he was deathly afraid of these animals although he'd never say so to his lady wife. However when the wolf shifted his glance from Mary to Edward, he somehow relaxed as he stared into the wolf's dark blue eyes that were very much like his own.

"Edward-" Mary hissed, begging him to come back but Edward didn't heed her warnings. He approached the wolf and before everyone knew what was going on, the guards came immediately with their spears ready to thrust them at the animal. However when they arrived they were shocked to find the animal subdued by their master.

"What shall we call him?" Tom asked eagerly as he and the rest of his siblings with Agnes and Heinrich gathered around their new pet.

"What would you wish to name her, Your Grace?" Ned asked his young stepson and Duke.

Tom blinked. His father had never asked for his opinion before. Mayhap being married to this man was not something bad at all as Anne Marie had told him. He was kind to all those around him, and strict, but that was just the way he figured his stepfather was with everyone. And he loved having Agnes around, although she had eyes for both, Tom liked to think that her attention was more for him than Heinrich.

He looked to Agnes who gave him an open smile knowing what he was going to say next. "Agnes, Your Grace, I think should name her." Edward raised his eyebrows and looked to his daughter who lowered her eyes at the she-wolf.

"Very well then, what do you say child?" He asked Agnes whose head perked up, looking anxiously at her father. She never felt more nervous. Tom always made her feel so, she hated how he always told everyone to ask her for her opinion instead of him of others who were better suited than she. She was not an expert of things as he believed.

Her lips trembled. She searched her mind for a name that could be worthy of such a gorgeous animal, her pelt was soft as ermine. Ermine! "Ermine." She said.

"Ermine!" Her younger stepsisters chorused, Marie's voice rang higher than any of them.

Mary looked at Edward who nodded at his wife. "Ermine, it is." He said and guided the girls and boys to the kennel where they decided to place the wolf bitch.

* * *

Mary's announced her second pregnancy on the sixteenth of August. She was crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty at the September tourney that was held in her honor. Her belly was ever-growing. She boasted they were twins. "I am so certain of it." She told, leaning forward to, Anna.

Anna smiled. It seems Mary is fulfilling her dream. She was happy for her friend. Her attention turned to her husband, Edward, Duke of Lancaster and Richmond. He had taken the title that had once belonged to her lady great-grandmother, the Lady Derby, and before her, Mary's grandfather, the founder and first King of the Tudor dynasty, Henry VII.

He bowed to them then turned to his lady wife and approached her thrusting his lance forward. "My lady" he said, waiting for her favors.

She put on her favors, green, blue and a pink one that she knew was his and his sister's favorite color for it represented harmony and patience, this last, a trait he was very familiar with; and smiled watching him go.

The flags fell down and the opponents thrust against one another. Edward dismounted the house of Howard, not once but twice! Mary rose from her seat and cried "Glory to Richmond House!" holding her hands very close to her breast, seeming to burst. Almost at once a different picture greeted her as he held his lance up, stained with dirt and remnants of his opponents' armor. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, she experienced erotic visions. His lance was transfigured, the metal flesh stripped and replaced with real one, the tip oozing with royal jelly and stained by her love-juices. Mary excused herself and went to his tent where without waiting to be announced she dismissed everyone and took his breastplate and helmet and threw them across the tent, and then she launched herself at him, kissing every part of his face.

* * *

"How long do you think they have been in there?" Lady Somerset asked her younger sisters, curious to know what they thought.

Emma and Philippa smirked. Well, Emma smirked. Philippa's was more like a grin. Her youngest sister had the wisdom of an owl while Emma was just plain stupid. A stupid little girl who still dreamed of knights in painted armour and maidens. Their mother always said. She paid no attention to what she said.

"I bet they haven't heard His Majesty's announcement that the tournament is over." Meg Douglas said, sitting next to Pippa.

"Nor will they," Chipped in Bella who winked at her husband, who winked back across the courtyard as he dismounted from his horse, donned his helmet and walked into his tent. "Our sweet little sister Mary is all grown up. Who would have thought the little, sweet, quiet papa's little girl would be so wicked."

"I don't think wicked is the right word. Her Grace, our cousin, is very passionate, hot for wild animals, indomitable as she." Meg said, "Look at her husbands, first His Grace Wiltshire, a falcon, despicable as he was, he was indomitable and arrogant as she. And of course being raised on the Queen's household and by the Queen's charity helped his cause. Our cousin has always been attracted to wild things, noble things and the Boleyns descended from the Howards are also represented by the panther, a regal but untamable animal as the falcon."

"And the Seymours are peacocks!" Emma interrupted bursting into laughter along with her youngest sister and cousins who sat in the front row.

"Yes, that is their official sigil but they also have the unicorn and the leopard on their crest. But as of late they have taken the wolf as their official animal."

"Why?" Emma asked, still laughing, her laugh as constant as her stupidity that soon turned into irritation as Meg looked at her, hoping that the stupid girl would figure it out for herself. Obviously, she was wrong. "I don't understand why they would choose a wolf. Why a wolf? Wolves are boring, they are lke dogs and our family has a dog in it crest so in essence they are copying us."

"I do not think so. Wolves are canines but a different type of canine and the Seymours found a white she-wolf on Hampshire and in summer of all times!" Meg calmly explained, not letting her irritation show. "It is a sign. Their homestead is named Wulf Hall, a simple coincidence they claim but everyone can see the relation. The Seymours have called themselves wolves for years and now more than ever the Almighty has given them a sign sending them a she-wolf."

"But wolves are smart and wolves are regal." Pippa intervened. She did not agree at all with Emma's assessment. She was stupid and caught in the "new men" fever as the rest of the Court. Men who possessed little to no drop of royal blood in their veins. Yet His Majesty allowed them at Court and rewarded them for their good service. Too good, she thought. Society needed to be structuralized and her Uncle was breaking the social norm raising these men, "rewarding" them for their services, treating them as his equals.  
Where would it all go to? Pippa could think of nothing more but chaos. Her Uncle was inviting chaos by treating these men as his equals, giving them peerages and replacing the old families with new ones. New ones who knew nothing of chivalry or followed the code of honor like every noble did.

Meg's mind working faster than Pippa's answered her, "The Seymours descend from the very first families that came with the Conqueror when this land was still ruled by Saxons. Their name has changed over time and albeit not of noble blood, they have made an honest living through their hard work."

"Hard work. A gentlemen needs not to work. Where were the days where men won their titles by slaying and serving His Majesty?" Pippa inquired.

"You fool." Gertrude intervened earning a sharp look from her sister. "The Seymours have served His Majesty and they continue to serve him. Otherwise why do you think His Majesty named Edward, the youngest ever, governor, Master of the Horse, royal squire, and gave him other responsibilities that he had not given any, and I repeat any of his nobles, including our cousin's late husband, George Boleyn?" When Pippa said nothing, Gertrude continued. "Is it because he appealed to His Majesty's good graces, because he did what others did to earn their post through flattering his Queen? Nay, sister. Ned Seymour unlike any man in our Uncle's Court, earned everything he had with the sweat of his back and brown and exercising his mind, something that I think every noble ought to do if they want to keep their lands for this is a new age, and if you haven't noticed our royal cousin, the Prince of Wales favors hard work and new men as well."

With this, Pippa and Emma became silent and looked elsewhere. Bella came to sit next to her cousin and congratulated on silencing her annoying little sisters.

"Someone had to do it." Was all Gertrude shrugging her shoulders as Bella continued to praise her.

"You, my sister Mary, and Nor are the only ones that can control those two little pests. How do you do it?"

"It is not hard controlling them. Really, it is not. You just have to know how to speak to them, be firm when you want to and not when you do not want to."

"You make it sound so simple. I can never get my son to be quiet when he is in my arms. He is just like his father, he longs for everyone's attentions, except my own –I can't figure out why. I should think he would want my attention above everyone else's but our lady great-grandmothers say that I should let him breathe."

"Perhaps you should."

Bella snorted. "What do you know? You do not have a child yet."

Gertrude said nothing.

Bella nudged her shoulder. "Cheer up cousin, you will be married in no time and fat with child. Thomas will be a good husband. I've heard great things about him and if he is as any good as his brother, he will keep you busy every night." She burst into greater laughter as she saw her cousin's horrified face.

"Do not tell me you are afraid? It hurts at first but-"

"No, it's not the pain that frightens me. I am prepared for that and I have had these conversations with my lady mother, she says it turns to a sweet melody after a while."

Bella gave a wicked smile "That it does. So what are you afraid of, if you do not mind me asking?"

Of course, I do -Thought Gertrude, but Bella would continue probing if she didn't tell her so she chose to tell her the truth. "It's him. Everyone is aware your sister, Her Majesty, the late Queen of Scots intended to marry either him or Sir Henry." She started.

"Say no more." Interrupted Bella, "You are afraid that he still has feelings for her." Her expression had softened. Gertrude reluctantly admitted she was by nodding and looking away. Her cousin's words brought her back. "My sister was a beauty, a golden beauty. It is no coincidence she was named Elizaeth for our lady great-grandmother, our last York Queen, Elizabeth Wydeville. Both were hot and wild for men far beyond their reach but while our older Lady Elizabeth was smart and callous, our younger Bess was … shall we say … foolish?" Gertrude blinked at her in surprise.

"I didn't realize you spoke this highly of your sister."

"Don't be sarcastic cousin. Everyone knows Bess was too romantic, too engrossed in tales of chivalry and romance to pay attention to the real world."

"And what is the real world to you?"

"Same as you, I keep my feet on the ground. I flirt when the occasion calls to it, but I remain faithful to my husband because it's the smart thing to do and because he is handsome and even if he were not I would still be faithful and I would not be sleeping around with any man until I gave him children, male heirs from his seed. I am not as you see foolish as my sister Bess, nor I am driven by hot passions and illusions of morality and remorse as my youngest sister Mary." At the mention of her lord father's favorite child, she snorted. "Everyone considers her brilliant and while she does display a love for politics, her brilliance is often clouded by her moral consciousness and her lust for her husband." Her expression became serious. "I hope you never have to experience that burden. Love your husband but not madly." She said lastly as the men came from the courtyard, her Philip among them.

He blew a kiss to her and she blew one back.

Gertrude envied her, she would never admit it to no one but she envied Bella.

She was over the moon since she had given her husband his long-for-sought heir and followed the tradition that many of her sisters and her oldest brother's wife had, in giving him twins. A boy and a girl. Everyone congratulated her and her husband's relations in Germany especially praised her and referred to her as Juno, the Queen of the Gods and Demeter, the Goddess of the harvest and abundance.

Everywhere, the King's daughters were being praised, his sisters as well. In France, Queen Catherine had given birth a third time to another boy and she was pregnant with another. Although it hadn't been confirmed, his second youngest sister, Elizabeth, the Duchess of Saxony wrote that she was expecting her fifth child. Unlike Catherine, she prayed that her child would be a girl since they had enough boys already and she feared there was not enough land or titles for any of them to inherit.

Gertrude wondered if she would fare the same luck. Her father was a Tudor, she was a Tudor and her mother was a Hapsburg. Her stock was also a fertile one. But unlike her Aunts and royals cousins who were married to handsome and lusty men; Gertrude was destined to marry a cold and albeit handsome, careless one.

When Thomas approached her, she linked her arm around his and he accepted it without question. They didn't even look at each other as they went to the Great Hall where the King had spared no expense in celebrating his royal children.

* * *

"Father."

"Yes?" Edmund asked looking up from his book. His wife was singing lullabies to their niece's children. Mary's younger children were the most well-behaved and beautiful children, Eleanor swore, she had encountered. Her daughters' beauty was great to rival theirs.

"How did you know –when did you know- you loved my mother?"

"That is easy since I first saw her. But she was married to my brother and I respected their union. In truth, I always loved your mother, when my brother showed her miniature to everyone I knew that our souls were linked."

"But didn't it hurt you that she was married to another?"

"It hurt me, every day I would see her walk hand in hand with your late uncle and I grew spiteful. Marriages were brought to the table but I said no to all of them. I wanted one woman and if I couldn't have her I vowed I would never marry." He sighed. "Then your Uncle died and she was mine. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to approach her. I was so afraid. I thought she would run away if I told her my feelings but your mother was so fragile and naked without your Uncle, then your Aunt took the children away and I knew that in spite of my feelings, I had to be there for her. So I was and the rest you know."

Gertrude pondered. She wondered if Thomas' silence was due to his guilt, that he feared he would hurt her and he would lose her to childbirth as he lost Bess. But I am not Bess, she said to herself. Bess had been fragile, she was a Princess meant for Kings and Princes. She probably never loved Tom.

"Why do you ask me? What is on your mind?"

"Nothing, I was only curious."

Tom smirked. "Liar." He said. "I can always tell when you are lying. What is really on your mind?"

"My cousin Bess, she and Tom, they had a-a intimate relation."

"Ah, so you are afraid that Sir Thomas still cherishes the memory of your late cousin, Bess."

She nodded.

"You need not to worry. Bess was a sweet girl but she lacked wits. In contrast you are a possessor of a great beauty, both inside and outside."

"Father," she said tilting her head and rolling her eyes in annoyance. "you know better than to pander at me like some silly English rose. I am not like my sisters, I know what is expected of me. He's signed the marriage contract and his star is rising at Court, like his brother he will become very important and I with him. Yet I cannot help but desire his love." She admitted lowering her eyes in shame.

"There is nothing wrong with wanting to be loved. He is a handsome man and if his reputation is true, he will give you many children. He put his book down and sat next to her. "What you are experiencing is normal. Every girl experiences it when she is about to be married," he put his arm around her, "Give him time and he will fall in love with you."

Will he? But she kept that thought to herself.

* * *

Early November, everyone remained in Richmond Palace. Besides Hampton it had become the Royal family's favorite palace and just recently Arthur announced he would be building a new palace. Sadly though for their King who was too entrenched in his vision to realize the cost of this endeavor, this would not be for eight more years. His son brought him the disappointing news but promised his father that when he was King he would erect palaces that would every other one to shame. The King was proud to hear his son speak with such conviction and did as his youngest daughter had asked him to, and named him his co-Regent. Katherine would still be Regent and the de facto ruler, but now she would share power with the Prince of Wales and future King of England in the present King's absence.

Katherine was elated to hear of her husband's wise decision and called on her oldest son's wife that night to dine with her.

Anna was surprised since the Queen rarely invited everyone. "Your Majesty." She greeted and sat facing the Queen. Cheese, meat, and foods of all kinds were served and wine from the French vineries. Anna was surprised at the luxury. She asked what were they celebrating.

Katherine smiled warmly at her daughter-in-law and told her all about her husband's new appointment.

"That is wonderful Your Majesty. His Majesty, the King, your husband honors us." She said drinking from her golden cup.

"The honor is all yours." The Queen agreed watching the Princess of Wales carefully, her eyes piercing hers. The woman had a kind smile that mimicked the Queen's. _She is learning. Good, she will need for when she is Queen._

After they finished, Katherine rose from her chair. Anna did as well but Katherine told her to sit down. She pulled a chair and sat next to Anna. "We have never been close, you and I," she began looking intently at Anna, her eyes more piercing than ever and this time Anna's shield was not strong enough to withstand the power of Her Majesty's icy blue eyes. "I have been distant, perhaps you have thought of me as cold and you are right. But it has not been out of hatred. I have nothing against you. I like you. Out of all of my sons' brides, you are the one I like the most."

"Thank you, Your Majesty for your kind words-"

"I am not finished." Said Katherine bearing a gentle smile but Anna could hear the sharpness in her voice. "You love my son. I can see by the way your face changes every time you whisper his name. You love him," she repeated, "and he loves you. That is why I will not come to you with false pretenses. I have had enough of those with Her Highness Madeleine and I am beginning to tire of them. You Anna will be Queen one day, it is not a matter of if but when, you must be prepared when the time comes."

"Your Majesty, I feel so honored that you think this highly of me but I assure you that there is no need to warn me for I know what I must do. I have been preparing myself for my future role since I married your son. I have come to love him and I have observed carefully, learning his business so I can be a great Regent as you."

"Flattery does you well. You have a way with words I wish I had. When I came into this country, I had very little friends."

"I find that hard to believe. Everyone loves you."

"Now yes, then no. They all saw my beauty and they believed I would be another Margaret of Anjou, another lioness rampant. I had to remind them my family's sigil was an eagle and I was patient and graceful whereas the last Lancaster Queen was not. It did not take long for the people to accept me once I was Queen. I had given my husband two healthy sons, one daughter and I had more on the way. People love you when you prove yourself useful and in the case of us women, we must prove our use through the best weapon we have, our wombs."

Anna nodded. She had come to know this truth after she gave birth to her last child.

"A woman's other prized possession is between her legs but I won't trouble you with the details since you're already aware of them with your large brood." Anna did her best not to blush. Before she could lower her eyes, Katherine tipped her chin and raised her head. "You have beautiful eyes, my grandsons take after you. Your youngest, Edward, has your eyes and his Plantagenet ancestors' red mane with some of my son's blond streaks. You are very fortunate Anna." Her eyes fell on her stomach. Though not noticeable, Katherine could see a little swell there. Her breasts were also bigger although it was hard to notice at first by the heavy gown she wore. "You have another on the way and yet you have not told anyone, why?" Katherine was curious.

"To be completely honest Your Majesty, I feel there is no need to. You said so yourself, a woman's true power is in her womb, as royal women it is the only way we can guarantee our safety. My children are my safety and I am theirs. If I keep myself invisible no one will conspire against us. I rather no one knows of this pregnancy until I enter confinement, if it pleases Your Majesty."

"It does." Katherine said smiling at the woman's gall. She had been impressed with her honesty. Sweetness and kindness were her weapons and they were powerful ones, unlike Katherine, she did not pretended to know everything nor did she make herself noticed. She was like a shadow, always present but invisible to everyone yet she had the courage and strength of a lioness.

"Would Your Majesty like more wine?" A servant boy asked. Katherine waved her hand and dismissed him. She returned her attention to Anna and clutched both of her hands. "I am glad we had this conversation and I hope we can see each other more in the future. Before you leave, there is something I want to ask of you and I hope Your Highness says yes."

"Anything, Your Majesty." Said Anna.

Katherine leaned forward and whispered in Anna's ear. Anna was shocked with her request, she was not sure how _she _would react when she told her but seeing the Queen's expectant smile, she could not help but nod and promised she would do her best.

They embraced each other and said their farewells. Katherine sent one of her ladies to escort the Princess of Wales to her chambers. On her way Anna could not help but think of a young Katherine. It was hard not to think of her as anything other than the mighty Queen of England that she had both come to fear, love, and respect. And she wondered if someday it would be her sitting at the table giving counsel to her daughter-in-law.

Reaching her chambers and her son's bed, she hoped it would never be so. Whoever occupied the post of Queen would have to be one of her choosing, someone who would not take her place in her son's heart. Although the Queen did not say it, she knew the older woman was scared. She loved her position and the thought of her husband dying was not only heartbreaking but frightening as well. As a woman who grew up with the belief that it was God's will she become Queen of England, the thought of someone else in her position, was unfathomable.

Same for Anna whose heart lurched at the thought of giving up her post to someone younger and more beautiful than her.

Coming from her thoughts by her son's snores, she smiled and leaned forward kissing his brow. "Never grow up." She whispered.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed.  
**

**Author's Note: Sources taken from Henry VIII: The King and his Court by Alison Weir, Tudors by John Guy, notes, and Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour. Inspiration from GOT, historical romances, and the Borgias.**


	39. Chapter Two

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and supported me. Yesterday's commencement would not have been possible without my true family, my friends and thanks to fanfiction as well for supporting this story with your reviews and recommendations and my other stories. Thank you.**

**Sources used: Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Tudors by John Guy, notes, Tudor Age by Jasper Ridley, and Catherine M. Luke's Catherine of Aragon.  
Inspiration from Game of Thrones, BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII, and the Tudors.**

* * *

The Duke and Duchess of Pembroke departed the following morning for one of their many homes. Mary had entered confinement and as everyone expected a month before her delivery. On June the tenth, Anno Domini 1539, Mary Tudor, Princess of Kent, Duchess Dowager of Wiltshire, Viscountess Dowager of Rochford, Duchess of Lancaster of Richmond, Countess of Hertford, and Viscountess of Beauchamp and Hache, gave birth to two perfectly healthy twin boys.

The pregnancy had taken a toll on her. When she saw her twin boys however, she forgot all about the pain and kissed each of their foreheads. It was the first time that she gave birth to twin boys. Edward's first real heirs.

"They are perfect." Ned said, echoing his wife's thoughts.

On June the thirteenth they were christened and right before their lady mother was churched the King and Queen came to visit them at Wulf Hall where Ned had decided to have his children and future heirs born.

The Queen could not believe such beauty existed. She turned to Mary who spread her arms. No doubt, the Queen thought, Her Highness Anna had spoken to her as she told her to.

There was no more resentment between the Princess of Kent and her lady mother and at last as mother and daughter were reunited, fate smiled on them and took Mary the following week after her parents' departure.

Ned sobbed. He was not a man who showed his feelings. Feelings were for the weak, for the obstinate, for the fools who lived in the past. He was a man of the present, a man of vision. He did not care for such trivial things but seeing Mary lying so cold on her bed as the physicians struggled to revived her, made him realize how frail he was, how human he was.

He had loved this woman. He had given her his heart, he sacrificed his morality, his sanity, his religion and for what? So God could take her away?

He threw the silver cross that her father-in-law had given to him prior to the Princess' funeral. He as many were fond of their Princess and set his differences aside for the Princess' children's sake and his granddaughter's. He kicked and spit at it and threw insults at it. "If you are the savior God then why did you let Mary die? Why did you kill my wife? Why did you kill that piece of human vermin George, if you were only going to take her too?"

He yelled and gave it one more kick then he grabbed it and threw it against the fire, with a glee of satisfaction he watched the metal slowly burn.

* * *

Agnes worried for her father. She went to her new lady Aunt's quarter, Her Highness, the Princess of Wales who cried over the Princess she had come to love so much and regarded her as if she was her own sister. Anna turned to the little girl and invited her to come. She sat her on her lap "What is wrong lady Agnes?"

"Father does not want to come from his seclusion."

"Tell him he has to come out. I shall speak to him."

Agnes nodded, seeing the woman's determined look that told her she would take no for answer. She went to get her lord father who hesitantly heeded the Princess' request.

"My lady."

"Anna, call me Anna. We are family now, in spite of your loss. We have nieces and nephews that need our comfort, especially your children. You cannot shut yourself from the world, Your Grace. Your children need their father and the little ones will need you the most for this difficult time."

"Let them mourn, I have done my mourning, they will do theirs now, the rest is of no consequence to me."

Anna blinked but she understood the Duke of Richmond and Lancaster's assessment. He was not a cold man but he was a hard and pragmatic one. Nothing could bring his wife, and he was tired of praying and kneeling to the Church his wife worshiped. He was tired of religion, tired of morality, tired of God.

God damn it all, he was tired of everything.

Anna placed her hand on the man's shoulder. Knowing what was going through his mind she confided in him of her own worries. "God can seem unjust, His ways are unknown to us but He does care Ned. He does. Your wife never told you because she did not wish to worry you, but her last days she prayed for you and your children. She knew her death was coming and she believed that the Lord's will was just and she was ready to die. She said it was divine punishment."

"For what? For George? The man was a brute how could she feel guilty?"

"George would not have turned into the monster he became had Mary not married him. She made the mistake and she took full responsibility of it."

Ned turned, he did not want the Princess and future Queen to see his tearful gaze. So Mary had felt guilty for that brute's death. "Why?" He asked in a hoarse voice. "Why did she not tell me?" His voice became more broken but his gaze, when he turned to face her, remained cold and his expression neutral betraying nothing.

Anna sighed. She wished the man would not be so consumed by his grief, otherwise he would sink into a depression he would not be able to get out of, and his children needed him and what was more –if he continued like this, the children were bound to grow cold and resentful, and hateful of their father.

"She did not want to trouble you, my lord. She wanted to carry on this burden alone. You do not know how she suffered, perhaps you did but she hid it so well so you would never see it. She blamed herself each day and it was not until she was plagued by the same nightmares that had plagued her since you two were married, that she confessed to me her sins and asked me to bring her, her chaplain."

Ned's face hardened; biting in his tongue, his eyes flashing with anger. It consumed him until it reached his heart.

So she still loved George.

He left before Anna could continue and upon reaching his chambers, he locked himself in and did not come out except to ride, eat, and receive his royal guests, for a full week.

The Princess of Wales worried about him and told her husband they should report this behavior on the King but Arthur assured her that nothing was wrong.

"In spite of what His Grace feels, he shall recover. He is not man to place feelings above personal gain." He told her.

"I do not think so. He loved your sister, yu saw how he left the service early and how red his eyes were after the reception."

"It doesn't matter. The Duke will never confess it, he is a man of the world and for him the best medicine to heal his wounded heart is plunging himself in his work and if this suits him then who are we to tell him otherwise?"

Anna shook her head. "He should at least see those children. They are beautiful, two perfect healthy boys unlike His Grace's older boy. They are perfectly round with his golden hair and your family's dark grey eyes. They are a perfect blend of Tudors and Seymours. Oh, if only he would see them." Anna seethed hating every time the Duke would pass the nursery without giving a single glance at them.

As far as he knew they were the sole cause of their mother's death and not wanting to do anything with them, he left them in the care of nurses and their Aunts.

Arthur kissed her cheek and caressed her round face. "My sweet Anna, every man grieves differently, you should not be too harsh on poor Ned Seymour. He will see the error of his ways, but even if he doesn't, it is not for us to judge."

"You are too good on him Arthur. I think you should speak to him, he will listen to you. As co-Regent he will."

To please his wife he said, "I will" then kissed her lips then both slipped under the covers and slept peacefully.

* * *

Gertrude and Thomas could not have chosen a worse time to beget a child. When they heard about the Princess of Kent Gertrude grew distraught and Thomas had been there to comfort her and in his comfort she had gotten him drunk and got him to make sweet love to her. When he woke up, he could barely remember last night's events but seeing her naked on the bed he realized what he'd done. Yet strangely enough he had not been mad. If truth be told, it was very clever of her. Otherwise, he would have never slept with her and with a daring kiss from her on his lips all the memories from last night resurfaced and he found himself liking the feeling of having someone so beautiful and pure in his arms again.

A month following the burial of the Princess of Kent, Thomas announced his wife's pregnancy. Edmund was overjoyed, his brothers were as well; the King was ready to take care of all of his niece's needs. His brother however, Ned, was not.

He felt this was a grievous offense and shut the door to his brother when he attempted to explain to Edward. Having nowhere else to go, he went to his own chambers where he found it had turned into a nursery. He looked quizzically at Gertrude.

"His Majesty said we can look after my late cousin's children and we are your youngest nephews' twins so I figured what a better way to make their lives better and gain some practice before our child is born."

Thomas smiled at her wit and picked Ned's youngest son from her arms. Named John Arthur Seymour after both of his parents' fathers, he shared his twin's golden hair they'd inherited from their father and his dark grey eyes they had inherited from their mother and their Tudor ancestors yet there were some minor differences that Thomas had to point out to Gertrude since she could see none.

"The birthmark on his ihp, all Seymour children have them, it's a n inverted 'V'. You see?" Gertrude nodded. "Ned's birthmark has no round curves but John's does." He pointed to the baby's left hip.

Gertrude looked closely then picked up the older twin, named William Henry after the founders of all three dynasties' fathers his mother descended from and took down the blanket and stared closely at his left hip, her eyes shifting from him to John.

"You are right." She said.

Tom smiled. Nobody ever thought him observant but when it came to his family, these things came natural for him and he loved his nephews. He did not know what it was about them, but being so close to them and Agnes had helped heal his wounded heart.

They put the twins back in their cribs and ordered their nurses and the children's governess to return the others to their respective beds. Until they could find more spare beds, they would all have to share.

Thomas undressed until he was only in his chemise and his brown leather breeches. He looked at his naked wife. He had been yearning for his golden Tudor all day long and now he had her. But before he could take her and thrust his lance in her, they were interrupted by the sudden outburst of Agnes screams echoing through their chambers.

Gertrude looked at him regretfully, she did not want him to leave. "I will not be long" he promised her, but she did not let him go.

"Let them solve their problems. Agnes is probably angry at her Boleyn step-siblings again."

Thomas tried so hard to pull from her kiss but damn her, her arms were strong and she soon overpowered him as she brought her knee up, proving her flexibility, and rubbing it against his member.

He gulped feeling his breeches become tighter with every move she made. He temptingly turned his head to the door. Agnes was no longer screaming but laughing. He wanted to see what all the raucous had been about, but Gertrude brought him from his thoughts, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his head to her.

"See, I've told you, they would solve it. They clearly do not need our help." But he wasn't fully convinced. Anxious as he was, he was more worried about his niece. He apologized and went to the solar.

Unsurprisingly his niece was there with the Duke of Wiltshire playing cards. Surprisingly they were not betting money or gifts but instead the loser had to kiss the other one on the cheek.

"Your turn." Agnes said, unaware as her young companion of her Uncle's presence.

"Two Queens."

"Two Kings." She boasted. "Now pay."

The young Duke rose and walked to her, knelt again and leaned forward, and with his eyes closed, kissed her.

It was a quick kiss, no emotion in it, but he could see his niece blushing. He finally decided to make his presence known.

"Uncle!" Said Agnes excitedly running towards him.

Thomas never ceased to be surprised how

"My lord Baron," Said her stepbrother more nervously. Like his father when he could not avoid others' anger, he stared down at his feet.

"What are you doing here? Don't tell me we disturbed you?' Agnes said winking and giggling as her Uncle cleared his throat, trying to change the conversation but she continued to probe him. "Are you and my lady Gertrude going to make more babies?"

"Agnes!" Exclaimed the young Duke. "That is not the kind of conversation a lady should have."

Agnes rolled her eyes. "I am no lady. My father says a lady should be discrete but also have a brain and not afraid to use it and besides both our mothers always said to speak our minds."

"Yes but not like this. Have a care, what if our siblings hear us?"

"If they do hear us it will be because of your raised voice." She pointed out and smiled in triumph at hi defeated look. "When is the child going to be born? I want to have a cousin. I have been told to pray for a boy but I would prefer a girl, and would you not like better a girl, Uncle?"

"If she is as sweet and well-behaved as you, then no." He said and she laughed.

"I am well behaved. My lord father says I am very well-behaved." She said emphasizing on the words 'lord father' while looking at her Uncle. It dawned on to him that while she still thought of Ned as her father, Thomas had replaced him on her heart.  
His brother had become so entrenched in his work that he had room for nothing else. His children were virtually forgotten and he only inquired on them whe hfelt he had to, to avoid another reprimand from Her Majesty.

"I am still going to pray for a son." Thomas answered her making her cross her arms against her chest.

"Then I will pray for a boy and because I am a Duke's daughter, my prayers will be heard."

"You are right except I am a Duke's brother and when it comes to boys and girls, boys tend to be favored my little darling."

"Do not call me little. I am one and ten and next year I will be two and ten and then I can choose my own husband."

"You can't," interrupted her step-sibling, his heart pounding against his chest as he was struck by the thought of losing his stepsister to another man. He couldn't accept that. He would not. "You need your father's permission for that."

"No, I don't, my father is too invested in his work and when I tell him who I want to marry he will just wave me away and make preparation for my marriage contract. My future husband I assure you will be most pleased though I am afraid he will not be smarter than you."

The young Duke opened his mouth to protest but Thomas spoke before he could. "Agnes your father will never let you marry so young."

"Who says anything about marrying, Uncle?"

"You don't?" Thomas sighed in relief but her next words made him more nervous.

"No, of course not. Why marry so young when you can enjoy His Majesty's court? My late lady mother, Her Grace, after all showed me everything there is to know about Court and she made lot of allies for my lord father and our family."

"Agnes you are only eleven, you do not need to concern yourself with these things. Whoever your husband will be, will be your father's choosing not yours." Not even Ned was this indulgent with his daughter to let her choose her own husband. But Agnes did not listen to reason, she insisted she would and like her father, she vowed she would get her way.

"My late lady mother, Thomas' late mother, told me that a woman needs to know who she will marry and get to know the Court, especially if her husband is to be a prominent lord."

"And just who this prominent lord is? I bet he is an idiot and stubborn just as you are."

"Aye he is but not as me, more like you. But don't worry, you won't have to deal with him on much occasions. If your skull continues to be a thick as your understanding, I doubt you two could get along."

"Good because whoever this is, he sound despicable already and I would not like to get along with someone so fiendish." Said Thomas Boleyn, crossing his arms as his step-sibling and responding to her glare by sticking his tongue out.

He could hear Gertrude moaning in annoyance and could almost hear her thoughts, demanding he came back. He shifted his glance to the door then to the two squabbling children.

"Agnes whatever your father decides if you do not wish it, I will support you but I ask you only one favor and one favor only."

Agnes cocked her head, very interested in what her Uncle had to say. "What might that be?"

"Let me and your Aunt to our own devices."

It dawned on Agnes what she and her step-sibling had interrupted and she covered her mouth, giggling. "If that is what you wish-"

"Yes very much so." Thomas said hurriedly, taking Agnes and the young Duke's hand and dumping them on their bedchamber, not caring if they woke the other ones. They were their problem and Gertrude was right. They could handle things very well on their own.

Agnes yelled after him "I hope you give me a baby girl cousin!"

Thomas could not help but chuckle. The girl had courage.

Entering their bedchamber, Gertrude pushing the covers to reveal her naked body, asked: "Is it over?"

Thomas nodded and hopped on the bed and begun to make sweet love to his wife.

* * *

Arthur had a quiet meal with his wife. "How long before we continue like this?" He asked her.

"I do not know. I have not intervened in any of your business, I have played the part of the subservient wife as you wished me to."

"That was never my intention. Catalina," he said, using her Spanish name. "I only wanted you to acknowledge your mistake in pairing Mary with George. I never meant to strip away your power. I enjoyed our political discussions and I miss your council. This matter with Scotland and James marrying this French Princess has me worried. I need it more than ever."

Well you should have thought of that my lord husband before you intervened on our son's union and forced him to wed that French harlot, Katherine thought but the Queen, stoic and ever regal, would never say such words. Instead she chose to say with a cold smile. "If His Majesty requires my council I will gladly give it to him."

Arthur sighed. "That is not what I meant Catalina. I really need you, not just your council but you. I cannot trust anybody with this and I have missed our nights together. I know it might have seemed cold to you, even unfair but our daughter was suffering and you yourself hated George for the way he forced himself on her."

It took the Queen a long moment to answer. She met his eyes and nodded. "Aye, it did. It hurt me very much but we both agreed to wed her to the Boleyn boy for both our sakes and besides the Boleyns are of royal blood through Lady Elizabeth Howard and they have proven themselves to us on various occasions."

"I know, Her Grace of Northumberland is a good subject to you but their father was a traitor and you know what it is said of traitor's blood. Sooner or later their evil catches up to them."

"Tell me my lord husband. Did you thought of that as well when you dissolved our son's marriage to Mistress Stanhope?"

"What? Of course not. That was different. Mistress Stanhope did not have one drop of royal blood-"

"So you too preferred to have royal blood in our family instead of commoners and savages' blood cursing through our line." At his mute silence, Katherine's smile widened. "Mistress Stanhope descended from all three Edwards while the Seymours descend from little more than savages and traders, and cheaters. The Boleyns descend from the noblest of families in Ireland, the Butlers and had Thomas Boleyn not been foolish enough to plot with his brother-in-law, he would have regained those Butler titles."

"But he didn't, he chose to engage in treason instead against our royal person and he was punished for it. I never understood why you took responsibility for his family. There were many other men, nobler men if blood is what you say is all you cared about, that you could have given to our daughter, why George? What made him so special?"

"You want to know what?"

"Yes." Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Katherine's smile turned warm but her tone did not change. "Nothing." Seeing her husband's brow furrow in confusion, she explained, "George Boleyn was nothing special. He was nothing but a son of a traitor and if you wanted to, he could have died forgotten and miserable."

"So? It was not your responsibility."

"Perhaps it wasn't but I was reminded of myself when I came to England, when you were sick, when you nearly died and I discovered I was with child, our first child. I felt guilty that my desire to have your child had made you sick and I swore to God that if He saved you that I would never let another soul pass with what I nearly pass through."

Arthur's eyes widened. He did not know Katherine's guilt for his near-death experience went so high. When he said nothing, she continued.

"I did not chose George because he was bright or because of his royal and noble blood, I chose him because I saw what I nearly could have been had God not answered my prayers and saved you. I realized too late the mistake I did but by then they were married and they had children. I could not afford Mary condemning herself or condemning George any further by ending their marriage and I knew that if she asked you, you would have said yes."

"Of course I would have. Our darling pearl was suffering. What did you want me to do? Nothing?"

"A wife's duty is with her husband." Was her response, pursing her lips until they formed a thin line.

He saw his wife was dead set on her ways. "You would have rather let her suffer then?"

"I would rather not let anyone suffer but obey the Lord's commands."

"How can it be the Lord's commands to let our daughter suffer?"

"You weren't so moralistic when you forced our son to leave his lawful wife for that French harlot."

"That French harlot my dear brought me an alliance I would have never had, had he remained married to your saintly Anne." Arthur said sarcastically, his patience thinning. "You do not forget what she did to our son? It was treason, if I hadn't heeded your merciful pleas I would have locked her up by now and declared her sons bastards but I didn't. I took pity on them and kept their status."

"Pity? Is that what you call it? Throwing her in a poor Abbey that Wolsey nearly closed down before his death and Archbishop Cranmer has declared corrupt and seeks to close it down as well? It is no act of mercy you took on that poor woman. You ruined her marriage, same as the Ladies Derby and Wydeville ruined our daughter's marriage to George or do you think I am blind to their machinations?"

"My grandmothers saw the truth as I did with Mistress Stanhope -that her marriage to George was a mistake."

"Mistake, maybe; but one that could have been prevented if you only but had given George a chance. He loved our daughter, you knew that, everyone did but your cursed Tudor pride that would not let you see it and instead you opted for that wolf."

"The Seymours have won everything with their hard labor, George only climbed the social ladder through our favors, or I should say your favors and my mother's."

"Your mother preferred him because she understood as well as I did. He was a nobleman, a faithful servant-"

Arthur interrupted his wife, "George Boleyn was faithful to no one. He was only faithful to us because of his marriage to our daughter and because our daughter was our favorite one. Had she not been, he would have gone back to his father's old ways, and conspired against us."

"You think nothing but the worst of everyone and yet you favor that man."

"That man was our daughter's husband and the father of our youngest grandchildren and _the realm's _faithful subject."

_The realm. The realm!_

Katherine wanted to shout at him, that what did he care of the realm? Edward Seymour was as all commonfolk who cared about nothing else but money and promotions, they cared little for the realm, honor, or faith.

She pushed her plate aside and rose from her chair. "If that is all husband, then I shall retire and leave you to your business." She said and before she gracefully made her exit she turned and said, "And I do sincerely hope that our daughter, Princess Madeleine supports you now that she's retired with our son to Pembroke, she was after all your chess piece in the Anglo-Frank alliance, and now her sister is Queen of Scotland."

* * *

The Queen's prophecy proved correct. Two weeks after, Arthur received correspondence from his lord of the Privy Seal, Thomas Cromwell, who confirmed his wife's suspicions.

The Princess Madeleine and Duchess of Pembroke by the marriage to his son, had been in contact with the Scottish envoys his nephew had sent to England. Prior to reaching Richmond, they had reached Pembroke, the Prince's manor where its owner had been absent at the time of their arrival. She conferred with them for long hours. She and her sister though many years apart, had always been close and Thomas Cromwell would not put it past her to try and dissuade the King through her husband, from forming an Imperial alliance with Charles V.

"This is outrageous." Shouted Arthur. First his wife leaves him again, then her prophecy proves correct.

His grandmothers had warned him as well but he chose not to listen, listening instead to his conscience and his mother who appealed in Madeleine's name. She knew what it was to have lived the idyllic life and then suddenly plunged into this atmosphere of madness, chaos, and intrigue. She had always been Madeleine's great supporter. Whatever Thomas Cromwell's spies told her son, Elizabeth of York was ready to defend her granddaughter-in-law.

"I am sure there must be some other explanation." She said.

"If there is, I'd be glad to hear it. I have summoned Her Highness, to Whitehall where I have decided to make it my permanent stay, at least until the spring next year."

"Rooms will have to be made ready then, I shall speak with the-"

"No," Arthur held his hand up. "Do not speak of this to no one. The Princess shall be given smaller rooms, separate from her husband's."

"Arthur, that is unfair. What will she think?"

"She will start thinking she should have come to me first instead of conspiring with my nephew."

"You do not know that for sure. Lord Cromwell has a tendency to exaggerate. In fact all his spies have confirmed is that she indeed received them, nothing was said of the Franco alliance or the alliance with Scotland being jeopardized. For all you know, she was just inquiring about her sister."

Arthur turned his back on her, his mother was very naïve. He would have thought years of political intrigue and the cousins' war would have taught her something.

His mother walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not be so quick to judge my son. Until we hear Madeleine's testimony, we can't be certain of everything."

Arthur wheeled to face his mother. Her face was so gentle, it seemed like there had not been any passage of years. She was still as he remembered from his childhood. "Thank you mother, your words always bring me comfort. Perhaps I should have you here more often." He proposed but she kindly declined his offer. Politics was not the life for her, she preferred the quiet family of the young ones and since Gertrude was with child, she looked forward to receiving her new great-grandson.

"Besides," she told him, holding his hand, "you still have your grandmothers with you. The ladies Wydeville and Derby will always be there to aid you." She promised him although both of them knew that would not always be the case.

Arthur kissed his mother on both cheeks and returned to his Privy Chamber where he was looking forward to another sleepless night. He looked at the drawer where his daughter's pearls were. Mary had always been their precious gift. When she was born, they knew she would be the daughter they would get to keep. And in spite of many offering their Princes' hand in marriage for their youngest daughter instead of her oldest siblings, Arthur and Katherine always relented. Now she was gone. It seemed almost ironic, he thought, holding the pearls. They felt heavier than he remembered. He put them down and went to the royal nursery that had been placed next to his niece, Gertrude's chambers.

He entered quietly. The lights were dim but he could make out two figures in the far corner tending to his grandsons.

Mistress Jane Seymour was having trouble putting her nephews to sleep. "Be quiet," she begged them but they remained adamant.

"Let me." Arthur said.

"Your Majesty." Mistress Seymour bowed down with her nephew still in her arms.

He took his grandson from her arms and dismissed her. "Not so brave now in the arms of your old man, are you?" He rocked him for several minutes until he fell asleep. He is his father's image, he thought as he looked from him to his twin brother. They were both their father's image, their mother had left nothing of her, except her dark grey eyes.

Staring down at the sleeping babes, he realized how much he missed her and how much he needed to hear her voice. Besides his mother, she was the only Tudor woman he could hear endlessly without complaint. And her presence always made every day feel like a Sunday.

He left the nursery and went back to his chambers. He wanted to believe his mother, but it had angered him. The Anglo-Frank alliance had been in peril since his nephew wed that French Princess and now it was in more peril if what Cromwell said was true that his daughter-in-law was keeping correspondence with her sister, the Queen of Scotland.

And things did not fare too well in his own marriage. For the first time he began to realize his wife might be right –about a lot of things.


	40. Chapter Three

"We are happy to see you again." Gertrude told her husband's brother. It was as if he'd come from the dead, she remarked. He gave her a faint smile then entered their house. The older children were lined first, he took a good look at them. Boleyn through and through though the oldest, Thomas bore little resemblance with his mother, he could see faint traces of her in the way he smiled and addressed him. His glance shifted to the younger ones, some too young to remember their mother or their respective fathers and still in their nurses' arms.

His brother and his wife had taken good care of them. The King asked for them often and Edward replied with nothing else but that they were fine and well-cared for.

Thomas, Gertrude, along with their sister saw their brother's expression and saw it fit to leave. The children were in good hands and they knew Edward never stayed for long.

"Let me." Ned told the nurse who was having trouble calming his wee down. His oldest son, William Henry. He stared at his father with wide dark blue eyes. At a distance they seemed almost dark grey but Edward knew better. Unlike His Majesty he did not give himself illusions that his wife lived through their children. His wife was dead and nothing was going to bring her back. "So you are the one that gave your mother those sleepless nights."

At only four months old the child seemed to understand, but instead of showing any regret for his mother's death, he gave his father a smile and blushed. He actually blushed! It is as if he is proud. Edward gave him to his nurse and moved on to his twin brother, his youngest son.

"You gave her the final blow. Your brother loaded the weapon but you gave the final blow." Edward said and this one, understanding the implications of his actions better than his brother, did show regret and began crying, trying to free himself off his father's grasp. He gave him to his nurse who rocked him and he was immediately calmed by her tender voice.

Edward looked at all of the children. The older ones, the Boleyn ones, including the false ones, looked at him with disapproval. His own daughter barely recognized him. She tried to approach him but he just gave her a cold glare then turned on his heel and exited the manor, returning to Whitehall Palace where he was once more entrenched in his work.

* * *

Madeleine was questioned for a third time. She didn't understand these proceedings nor she could grasp the severity of them if it was found she was lying. Finally, Cromwell, getting tired of her unwillingness to cooperate and her constant and annoying fits of laughter, he called on the greatest torturer of all, the Queen.

It took Katherine no longer than two minutes to get the truth out of her. One single sentence and she was singing, music to Cromwell's ears, pointing out names, places, and writing out the dates –suddenly she remembered, she told them, as if struck by lightning- she had exchanged letters with the Queen of Scots.

"And all of this in two minutes." Cromwell said, his lips twisting into a sardonic smile. "That must be a new record." He told Her Majesty.

Katherine said nothing. She was a dutiful wife and she was only doing her duty, aiding His Majesty and his ministers in their work.

"Nevertheless Your Majesty, this deserves a reward of the highest kind." Cromwell said, speaking his thoughts aloud.

"You can tell that to His Majesty that, I have done my duty and that is reward enough" She put on her ermine robe over her black gown and walked to the door. "Good day to you Lord Cromwell." She said, closing the doors behind her.

Cromwell chuckled. Nature had wronged her greatly. If she were born a man she would own all of Europe by now. The Queen's wisdom was great and the King had done her a great disservice relegating to the position of a simple housewife.

No doubt the King, like all Tudor men, treasured their mother and the memory of her since her passing two months ago, that she left imprinted on them. The pliant, submissive, sweet, passive Consort who did nothing more but nodded and never spoke one word against her husband or intervened in any of his policies. Elizabeth of York had been a remarkable wife, Cromwell acknowledged mentally but she contributed nothing to the Crown politically.

Her marriage was simply one of her convenience. The King had wed her for no other purposes to unite the houses of York and Lancaster and end many years of bloodshed. After her marriage she disappeared from the political arena and settled into the role that was planned for her. The rightful heiress to the Crown, brought down to nothing but a common brood mare, and obscure one at that.  
It was Margaret Beaufort, the red Queen, the last of the Lancasters to wield so much power, who took the credit for the children she bore, who signed with her husband's royal 'R' for Regina. It was Margaret Beaufort the King had adored and it had been Margaret Beaufort who was head of her son's Council in his absence. Not Elizabeth, not the rightful Queen.

* * *

The young Arthur congratulated his mother for her success. His wife followed. "You do us great joy. Anna and I never believed her little act of the sweet and cheerful wife."

"Of course not my son, you are as your grandfather."

"Which one?" Arthur asked with an amused smile, partly confused. He always got confused when his mother remarked how much he looked like his ancestors. He never knew if she was talking about his Plantagenet ancestors, his father's or his mother's.

"Both." Katherine said with a forced smile. In truth, she wanted to tell him he looked more like Ferdinand, the last King of Aragon and first King of a unified Spain. There was little of his father in him in spite of his striking resemblance to him. He and his namesake differed greatly over a vast number of things and although she feared that her son was fond of the new heretical teachings, she understood why he took an interest in them.  
Her son was after all the King-to-be. One day he would have to place his interests above everyone else's, including God's. It was what every King, whatever God-chosen monarch was called to do. Her father had told her so before she left Spain. "A King's life is for his people and keeping power at all cost, everything else is second." He told her. "Including family."

Their oldest son, Lord Arthur, greeted them as he entered the room. "Mother, father, Your Majesty."

"My lord Prince." She said curtsying to her oldest grandson. She tapped the space on the large sette she sat in. "How are your lessons going?"

"They are going well, lady mother. His tutors say he's begun to take an interest in a new language. Have you not Arthur?" She asked her oldest son, showing her sweetest smile to date as she waited for her son to answer her.

He turned his head to his lady grandmother. "Yes. I just discovered the classics. I used to think they are boring but they have turned fascinating to me. I wish to explore more and I have asked my tutors to instruct me in Greek. You think it is a good idea Your Majesty? My lord father here think there is no need but I think there is. How can someone understand these precious texts if someone doesn't learn the language they were written first?"

Katherine nodded, finding his reasoning very funny but true. She glanced at her son. "Your son makes a bright point my son. You can't understand a book until you learn the full history behind it."

The older Arthur and Prince of Wales nodded. "You are very right mother. Always listen to your women Artie, they are right."

"I know father."

"No, I mean it." He said, his voice turning serious. "Even when they are wrong they are right."

Artie cocked his head not understanding the jest but seeing everyone's playful grin, he just went along with it and nodded.

The Queen returned to her chambers after a delicious dinner. Her husband was absent, unsurprisingly, but Ferdinand was there. He was forced to attend and so was Madeleine. Katherine could not resist. Pious as she was, she was a Queen and Queens could allow the liberty of having some defects. She would confess it in the morning and be done with it. But in the meanwhile during the dinner, she could not help but gloat at Madeleine how the King in Scotland was thinking of leaving his French harlot. She went as far as to call her such. Arthur fought very hard not to laugh and in spite of his youngest brother's glare, he could not help but nod to everything his mother said.

It finally became too much for him and he knocked his fist on the table when his mother remarked how French women are always remarkable in their dresses, their wide farthingales and fur shawls, but they can't give birth to a healthy son.

This last was a direct insult to Madeleine who in spite of giving Ferdinand many children, not many of them had survived. Their first children died last year and her recent pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage that she blamed it on Lord Cromwell for his "ruthless methods of interrogation". Her husband dancing to her every tune believed her and reclaimed justice be given and punish Cromwell for his misdeeds to his father. Of course the oldest Arthur, borrowing from his wife and ministers, among them Ned Seymour, their common sense, did not heed his son's reclaims.

Now he turned to his mother, locking his pale blue eyes with hers. "How dare you speak thus about my noble lady? She is my wife and a Princess of the royal blood and the mother to your grandchildren. You owe her respect, Madame!"

"Do not talk to me that way Nando, you are a Prince yes, but I am still your mother and had it not been for me, your whelps would have nothing."

"How can you speak so ill of my children? They are your grandchildren. You love little Marie, I know you do."

"Yes I do, she is a sweet girl unlike her mother, but your other girls are ruthless and vain. And it is all your fault. If you and Madeleine, no forgive me, if **you** had any common sense in your children's upbringing, you would lock them in a nunnery and leave them there until they have been set right."

"Good God mother-"

"Do not blaspheme!"

"-you speak of them as if they were the devil!" He rose from his chair. "You want to know why I do not have a hand in their upbringing, it is because of you" He raised his hand and pointed his finger in her direction. "You have done nothing but scold me since the day I was born. Nothing I do is ever right for you. I say something, you say the opposite. I tell my children to read, you tell them to pray. I can't have liberty over what I want in my own house so yes, I chose to let them do as I please because I want them to be free. I don't want them to grow confined as I was!"

"Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you listened to your father and married your French whore!" Katherine said, rising from the table, she left the room, hurt and outraged by her son's words.

What kind of mother was she? Madeleine remarked when everyone had retired to their chambers. Their hosts, the Prince and Princess of Wales had excused themselves for their mother's behavior and bid them a good night.

"Just what kind of Queen does that?" Madeleine continued. "My mother was always faithful to my father. She was pious and a dutiful wife, she knew what was good for the realm. She never intruded in politics and the people loved her. Everyone loved her. A wife should be with her husband, she should love her husband and keep her silence where men's affairs are concerned." She said reciting what her mother had told her before she died.

Madeleine lived by her mother's motto, and she was no hypocrite like the Queen of England who styled herself a good Queen, mother, and wife. She was too intruding, and too bossy she thought. She cared for no one but herself and the power she wielded. And that power was being stripped away more and more by her husband and his ministers. Why some of His Majesty's minister though went to her for Council, Madeleine had no idea. But it had to be the Queen's doing. She must be harassing them, she thought.

Nando nodded and kissed his wife's lips. They were not as warm and she was not passionate as his first wife. But she was humble and loyal, and she was such a beautiful thing, so frail and beautiful. He loved her, he was enchanted by her like he had been with nobody else.

"My love." He told her, "You should not be upset, you know she only says these things to upset you."

"But why do you let her speak to you thus?"

"My cherrie, what do you want me to do? She is my mother and the Queen at that."

"You are her son," she said in a hiss. "She is your mother, nothing more. Your father is King and you are his third son, and need I remind you, you are the one with the largest brood of children after your brother and late sister?"

She knew she was planting the seeds of deceit in his head but she enjoyed it. Her sister was Queen and she was only the youngest. Madeleine was the oldest and she believed she would make a finer Queen than Lady Anna of Cleves. She was after all a Valois. Lady Anna was nothing more than a Duke's daughter. Her father was a King and she was convinced it was her destiny to be Queen.

She came from her thoughts. Nando placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her.

"Why can't you?" She asked him. "Why can't you demand what is rightfully yours? Every other Prince gets respect except in this Court. It seems as if she is the one ruling Ferdinand! You are a Prince, a King's son. Without your father she would be nothing but a Princess of a divided Kingdom!"

"She is a Princess of Spain."

"Spain? I do not seem to remember there was such a country. Ah, you mean Spain, well how foolish of me." She smacked her head and said in a sarcastic voice. "There are just so many Spains that I can barely make the distinction. You have the Aragonese Crown, the Catalans, the Basques, and then you have the Castilian Crowns and their nobles who think so high of themselves with their power and authority yet they are governed by an Austrian." She laughed merrily but her husband did not think this was a laughing matter.

He begged her to be quiet but she continued. "Charles is unpopular with his people. He starves them to get what he wants and what is more, he receives no respect from his own territories. What was it your Aunt Bess told you, the Duchess of Saxony? That they are not ready to give way to his demands? And rightfully so, he thinks himself owner of half the world yet his own people detest him. His own mother wages war against him, did you know he had to send his brother away when he assumed the throne?"

Ferdinand shook his head.

Madeleine scoffed. Of course he didn't know. Nando was a complete blunder. "It is not a surprise when he came to his mother's chamber to get conferred as Spain, that tiny little land's King. She rejected him you know. Everyone says he invented it, that he went along with his grandfather's rumors that he was mad so he would be proclaimed sole ruler of Spain."

"It is his right isn't it? Under the Salic Law-"

"Under the Salic Law he inherits the Crown of Aragon not Castile. Do not believe your mother's lies, she thinks that Juana is mad, and she's convinced your father and everyone at Court that she is because she's always been her father and now your cousin's devoted follower."

"My mother is faithful to England." He said in a whisper, shaking his head vigorously as his wife suggested she was conspiring with his cousin, and that she was sole responsible behind England's inclination towards the Empire instead of Madeleine's native country.

"You are only saying those things because your father did not get favored again." His voice dropped as she glared at him but it soon changed as she smiled in glee.

_Finally he is using his head._

"You are right Nando, I am angry, but do not confuse anger with wits. I have a lot of them, my father and my lady Aunt taught me well and I know treachery when I see it. Your mother hates you because you are the only one of her children who has never danced to her tune. You and only you have defied her, have been brave where your brothers continue to be puppets."

"My brother does defy her … sometimes." He mumbled.

She took his hands away and placed hers on his cheeks, cupping his face. "Sometimes," she agreed, "Most of the times he favors and why? Because she is rearing him to be Spain's little puppet just as she wanted her husband to be. She's failed don't you see, her husband, your father has finally seen her for what she is and now she is moving towards your brother."

"No, no, that is not true. My mother-"

"Your mother is a Spaniard and an agent of Spain, nothing else!" She said firmly, she leaned forward and gave him a long kiss. "It is our time to act. After your father dies, who will be the person taking the reins of government, your brother an agent of Spain or your middle brother, a debaucher and libertine who will only plunge England into greater misery? You, Nando, it must be you."

Nando's eyes widened as it all came back to him. Anne had always said he was meant for greatness but that he was a fool not to seek it, and now here was his sweet Madeleine, presenting with the means and opportunity. He only had to say "Yes" … Yet …

Nando shook his head. "I can't." His family, his brothers, he had sworn a holy Oath after Anne had betrayed him never to be disloyal to anyone in his family.

"I am sorry," he said still shaking his head, looking down at his feet because he couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his wife's face. She was the only thing that had come to him that was pure, beautiful, and magnificent. His brother Henry was not married and his oldest brother was but to a Duke's daughter and a plain one at that who did not possess the grace or beauty that his wife had.

It suddenly dawned to him that Madeleine had not spoken another word. He slowly looked up and saw nothing in her face. Nothing. No disappointment, anger, sadness, it was completely blank. Nothing was there. Nothing.

He took a step forward and extended his hand to take hers but she backed away. "No, you have made your decision and if that is your final decision which I suspect by your coward's tears it is not, then stick with it."

Before she was on her way out, she turned and told him in a cold-cutting voice –"I married you as a man Nando, I married you thinking you would be different from all the Princes in Christendom. You have disappointed me husband. Perhaps your brother Henry would have made a finer choice. At least he with all his defects, knows what he wants."

"Madeleine wait!"

"Until you grow some courage you shall not speak to me." She said and slammed the door right in his face.

"Argh!" He screamed beating his fists against the door.

Damn it! Why couldn't he be more man like his wife wanted? She deserved so much more than a ninny Prince! A third son. That was all he was and all he would always be.

* * *

Elizabeth Wydeville coughed strongly. She had spit plenty of blood into the bowl the servants held for her. She was succumbing. At last –she thought- after all these years of in-fighting –her husband's family and hers, she was finally going to rest.

Her eyelids began to flutter. You must fight –she heard her conscience whisper in her mother's voice. You must fight!

But then it would it not be nicer just to rest?

Yes, rest … She ignored her mother's nagging voice and closed her eyes, bearing a peaceful look on her face.

* * *

Anne, Anne Boleyn, Anne Northumberland, Anne Percy. Today she was only Anne, the Queen's major confidant. Her best lady-in-waiting had died and her daughter left too much to be desired. Her Grace of Suffolk was a poor Duchess compared to her predecessor, the late Queen Dowager and Princess of England, Mary "Rose" Tudor.

She knelt before the Queen and put her slippers on. The Queen was retreating more and more from public life and rearing her daughter-in-law, the future Queen of England for it. Under her mentorship, the Princess of Wales would become the Queen she was meant to be. A Queen worthy of her people and her people worthy of her.

Anne nodded to Her Majesty's words. The Queen then asked her about how her oldest son, her other children and how they were enjoying country life.

Anne had lost her husband, a victim of the white throat. Just as George, it had come as a surprise. No one wanted to believe that their handsome, young, strapping Duke had fallen victim to it. But he had and he had left Anne as sole matriarch. With her brother gone, her mother gone, her husband gone, she was now the head of the Boleyn family and matriarch of the Percys since everyone else had been taken by the same sickness as their late Duke.

Her son had assumed the Dukedom, but he was still too young and naïve to fend for himself, so the task fell on her.

"My son misses Court life, Your Majesty but he is content serving His Highness' younger sons."

"I am happy, I truly am Your Grace that you found so much happiness during your marriage. Anne," she said, pausing as she called her longtime friend and subject by her Christian name. "You will have to guide your nieces and nephews as well. My grandchildren have been neglected by their stepfather and Arthur rarely lets you see them. You have my permission to oversee my grandson, your nephew, His Grace's states, if you wish."

"Your Majesty it will be my honor." She said taking the Queens jeweled hand and kissing her ring.

"I shall look after his states and look after him if Your Majesty will permit as if he was my own, and he is of my flesh and blood so I promise you that I will take care of him. His affairs are after all my affairs."

The Queen smiled warmly. "Thank you Anne, I do not know what they would do without you." And what I would do, thought she but kept that thought to herself.

"And what about the other children, Your Majesty? What of the Seymour-Tudors? Will Her Majesty want me to look after them as well?"

The Queen's smile slowly waned. She sighed. She had not thought much about them but she remembered the youngest ones. How much they looked like their father and the Queen wasn't fond of their father. Yet they were still her grandchildren, her flesh and blood and they would need protection.

She shook her head and looked down at Anne. "No, they will be given the protection of their relatives, they are already placed under the careful supervision of Baron Sudeley and Lady Sudeley, my niece has been a good surrogate mother to them, however if you wish to have one of them as your youngest daughter's playmate, then I am certain Lady Sudeley will be more than happy to oblige when I write to her."

Anne smiled, understanding what the Queen meant. Her youngest daughter, Annie, was a sweet little thing, but most of all she had the Boleyn cunning although still good-natured. She had the Howard looks and with little of Anne or Henry Percy in her. She would make a good Duchess and her sons and daughters would be possessors of great fortune.

Anne laughed inwardly. Who would have thought, the falcon and the wolf united through her daughter? But it would strengthen the royal ties that her family already had with her nieces and nephews from Mary and George's marriage.

She nodded and thanked the Queen, and kissed her jeweled hand once more.

As she was dismissed and she retired to her chambers, she thought of her daughter's wedding dress and when she officially became Duchess of Lancaster and Richmond.

If only it could be sooner –thought Anne, and just then the cogs of her brain began turning as she thought of the impending war with France, and England's future role in it.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sources used: Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, notes, Wikipedia, Tudor Age by Jasper Ridley, and Henry VIII: The King and His Court by Alison Weir. Inspiration from Game of Thrones, BBC's Six Wives of Henry VIII, the Borgias, Skye O'Malley's saga by Bertrice Small, and Forgotten Queen by D.L. Bogdan who provides as Small some of the best historical details and accurate depictions and settings of Tudor times.**


	41. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: This chapter is a bit more like an interlude and despite favoring long chapters I prefer to update with a good chapter rather than a long and meaningless one. This chapter forestalls what is about to come so pay close attention to detail and the characters present. **

**Sources used: Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, notes, Humanist Ambassador by Garrett Mattingly, and Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour.  
Inspiration from GOT, BBC's Hollow Crown, Tudors, Skye O'Malley's saga and Skye's Legacy by Bertrice Small.**

* * *

"**All of you will dance to whatever tune I sing." ~Elizabeth Woodville in White Queen**

* * *

"My lord of Somerset I curse you." Anne swore, putting his name on the piece of paper she had drawn for him. She had seen the former Queen of York, write many names on paper, cursing them and throwing it to the river for her water goddess demon ancestress, Melusina, to pick up.

Anne Boleyn did not believe in superstitions but for her family's sake she would throw this into the fire where the names of her family's enemies, would be purified by the true God's fire and punished for their misdeeds.

She threw the first one to the fire then wrote other names on paper. "My lord of Gloucester I curse thee. My lord Duke of Richmond and Lancaster I curse thee too." And she threw them into the fire as well.

The Queen of the old Yorkist clan was gone and with her all the evil she had done.

"_This is what happens when you put the devil on the throne"_ –her mother used to say. Aye, she was the devil and now she was burning in hell, waiting for Margaret Beaufort to join her and her water goddess demon ancestress when the day of reckoning came.

Anne watched the papers burn and waited until there was nothing left. God would hear her prayers, His power was greater than any water goddess or demon.

She went to Hever the next day where her daughter was waiting for her. Bess, her oldest child was anxious to see her cousin, Thomas again. Anne promised her she would. She had her own designs for Bess. Bess was reared as a Princess and she had noble and royal blood cursing through her veins. It was not as pure as George's son, but it would do. Being the oldest son of the King's youngest and late daughter, he could not hope for better.

She beckoned her youngest, Annie to come. She could barely walk and still crawled but Anne's imperious voice forced her to. She was only three and very soon she would be sent to the wolves to raise as their patriarch's heir future bride.

"I want you to do something for me before you go."

"I do not want to go lady mother."

"You must." Anne said grabbing her shoulders and slightly shaking her, scaring the poor girl but Anne did not care. She was old enough to have reason and if Anne didn't prepare her now she would always be gullible and naïve like half the girls in His Majesty's court. "It is not a matter of like or want, it is a matter of when. His Grace's men will come tomorrow and you will board the carriage and when you arrive to Beaulieu you will remember to bow down to the Lord and Lady Sudeley, you understand?"

The girl nodded, knowing better now than to say otherwise. "You will be expected to provide him a son and you will. It does not matter what you have to do to get him into your bed, you must have a hold on him. Remember this," she shook her as her daughter's eyes began to close. "you are a Boleyn of the Houses Howard and Boleyn, we do not ask, we take. You will take your husband's fortune once you give him a son."

"And if I don't?" Annie asked her mother timidly.

Anne sighed and let go of her daughter. "Then you better hope you do because God's clemency will not help you if you don't."

Leaving the room, her older daughter followed, leaving Annie alone, shaken and distraught by her mother's words.

* * *

Gertrude and Thomas' first son was born prematurely but although he was small the midwife told him he was healthy. "Just very small, but he is healthy," she assured them.

Gertrude rocked him, very proud with herself. She had done her duty and brought her husband a son. Thomas smiled at the little infant in his mother's arms. He was just like him but he could see faint traces of his wife in him.

"May I?"

Gertrude nodded and gave him to Thomas.

She showed extreme happiness as her lord father and lady mother came into the room and shared with Thomas their joy.

For Gertrude this was a political victory. Like everything she did she had demonstrated that she could sire healthy children and what was more, her son was born on her birthday, January the fourteenth, a sign of heaven that God favored the House of Somerset and her House of Sudeley.

* * *

Ned could barely register his brother's joy when he entered the chapel royal. The King was doing this to spite the Queen and to show royal favors to the Seymour family. In truth, he could care less. His brother could whelp more children into the Lady Somerset's belly. Their future was already secure with his marriage to his late wife and the children he had with her.

All that mattered was to continue to have that power and do everything, no matter what, no matter how, to keep it.

* * *

The year **1540** was an eventful year for everyone. Not only for the birth of Lady Sudeley and Lord Sudeley's son, but the war with France that had been declared on part of the Empire.

Imperial Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys, always the Emperor's loyal servant, declared to the King in low tones that he should support the King of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor against the King of France.  
"The King of France has done grievous injustice allying himself with the Turks; he also intends to steal what is rightfully His Imperial Majesty's."

"Then that is your master's concern not ours. England will remain as it has always been for years, neutral, Your Excellency and nothing you or your master says can deter me from that." His word was final.

The Imperial Ambassador had no choice but to go back to his embassy and inform his master of His Majesty's decision.

* * *

Anna made the youngest of the Seymour girls place her hands on the Bible followed by Ladies Anne and Marie Boleyn.

"Do you solemnly swear to the King's justice and His Highness justice so help you God?" Archbishop Cranmer asked the Boleyn sisters.

"We solemnly swear, Your Grace." They said bowing their heads low as they withdrew their hands from the bible. They were glued to one another. And why wouldn't they, thought Anna, when they were twins?

Both of them were very small and looked younger. Anne Marie looked like she was only five and her sister even younger but they were both seven, about to be eight this year.

Anna's chief lady-in-waiting led them to the solar where they joined her other ladies who were busy writing, knitting, or reading poetry.

Anne Marie immediately felt at ease with them. Lady Agnes Seymour and Lady Marie Isabella did not. It was the first time that Agnes was so far away from home and without family and although she guessed the Royals could be considered family through her late stepmother, this environment still felt very new to them.

Marie had it the hardest, she tried to mingle with the older girls since the younger ones didn't care about anything else but poetry and love songs, all the things that Anne cared about. The older girls welcomed her immediately and they let her borrow all their books and even helped her with her knitting which she was terrible.

The following month, Anne received a new member to her service; this was their sister, the fourth youngest of the Boleyn-Tudor brood; Margaret Boleyn. Otherwise known as "Maggie". She curtsied before the future Queen and placed her delicate hand on the bible.

She was only five winters old but her eyes spoke of great wisdom.

So it was that the four Seymour and Boleyn siblings came into the Princess of Wales' household and none of them got along with one another, except for Agnes and Maggie who shared a lot of common interests.

Anna found their interactions very odd and very often although she pretended not to understand them, she did and could relate very well to all the sisters. She and her sisters had not been close, except when there had been talks of wedding either her or Amelia to the future King of England, she and her sisters had nothing in common.

She looked outside her window at the sisters playing with her sons and she smiled as she watched the fresh meadows. All of this would one day be hers and not in name only but as the Queen had taught her, it would all be hers to rule and dictate while her husband was absent. For Kings might rule in the Council –she told Anna- but a Queen's place next to her husband was more important. To rule besides him and behind him, to whisper in his ear, to have access to all of his battle plans and schemes, and influence him in ways that no one could.

Anna's smile turned wider. Everything her mother-in-law had said was true except for one thing. It was not worth being Queen of the light when you made yourself visible to everyone, including your enemies. It was better to be a shadow as Anna was. Nobody bothered a shadow, nobody even bothered to think that a shadow cared because a shadow didn't make herself visible, a shadow was more dangerous and a shadow could influence in ways that a shining Queen could not. A shadow's sword, she whispered to herself, cut deeper than any golden sword.

And this was what Anna was, what she would be, she vowed to herself. A shadow.

* * *

Katherine promised the Imperial Ambassador she would talk to her husband. Chapuys thanked the Queen and kissed her jeweled hand, leaving her chambers. Seconds later her husband came in bearing an angry expression.

Before he could ask her what the Imperial Ambassador was doing there when he sent him back to his embassy, she spoke. "I have spoken to His Excellency and he's promised to speak on Our behalf to my nephew." She said using the royal 'Our' knowing that he was curious about his presence.

"Why would you do that? Do you realize what this could mean to me, politically?"

"I know." She said with a big smile. "And it is why I do it." And before he could reply she rose and left with her ladies trailing after her, without giving her husband a second thought.

She knew his next move and what Madeleine's next move would be as well.

She was initiating a war, a war that her husband might not win but this was the way women. Men might fight wars, but women had their own ways of fighting wars. They were the cause behind them and now Katherine was responsible for plunging England into yet another one.

There were many interests at present that England could not ignore, it had to reap the benefits of this enterprise and the Spanish Princess, against Madeleine's claims, was not an agent of Spain but an agent of her adopted Country. She would have England, as Cromwell also desired, the richest Country in Christendom.


	42. Chapter Five

**Sources used: Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, notes, Lundell's Dissertation on Eustace Chapuys "The Mask of Dissimulation" which provides great information about the English Court, the Italian Wars and the Scottish-English battle of 1542; and Henry VIII: The King and His Court by Alison Weir.  
Inspiration from GOT, Tudors, Starz' White Queen clips, D.L. Bogdan's Forgotten Queen, Bertrice Small's romances, and Spartacus.**

**Thanks to everyone who made this possible and I am officially retiring from fanfiction before I become more crazy with ideas and I hope you enjoyed this story and that you keep on reviewing my stories and those I will do from now on which will be one shots and vignettes. Thank you.**

**Sources used: Ordeal by Ambition by William Seymour, Thistle and the Rose by Hester W. Chapman, notes, Lundell's Dissertation on Eustace Chapuys "The Mask of Dissimulation" which provides great information about the English Court, the Italian Wars and the Scottish-English battle of 1542; and Henry VIII: The King and His Court by Alison Weir.  
Inspiration from GOT, Tudors, Starz' White Queen clips, D.L. Bogdan's Forgotten Queen, Bertrice Small's romances, and Spartacus.**

**~ VM**

* * *

"**You will have to wage through blood and you will know loss. You must be stronger." ~Lady Rivers in White Queen**

* * *

Harry Ray interviewed the former Queen of Scots, the Queen Dowager, Margaret Tudor. "His Majesty requests that you put a stop to your son's incursions on our Northern borders, it was agreed-"

"It was agreed nothing. I know very well where my brother stands. This is Katherine's doing and his Queen means him to be overthrown to satisfy her English pride." She said firmly, "When my brother stops taking orders from his Spanish bride then you can come to me, until then I will not hear or see any of you. You are dismissed." She waved her hand and ordered Ralph Sadler and her brother's new envoy, Harry Ray out of the room.

She turned to face his son's new bride. A year had passed with nothing but false hopes from France. It seemed to her as if France could not keep their promise of delivering good healthy babies. At least the late Queen's older sister, Princess Madeleine could deliver healthy girls, her sister could deliver nothing! Only death.

Marie of Guise assented her head to her mother and turned to her husband, locking her eyes with him. An agreement passed between them. "Your lady mother speaks wisdom my lord but so does your Uncle, His Majesty, Arthur. Last time we challenged him he sent more than 6,000 men, ready and armed to invade Scotland. Who knows what he will be capable of now? You must think of your realm, of your family, think of me and your mother and your daughter." She left unsaid the wee one waiting in her womb. It was too early to confirm it. She did not want to give the King false hopes. After he lost his precious son, she didn't want to give him and Scotland false airs that she could give them a son when she could not. For all she knew this was another false alarm. She had a lot of those in the first months of her marriage.

"If my lady believes that I should, the mayhap you are right, however We must not deter from our ambitious pursuit. The King, my Uncle, believes he can dominate me. He is wrong. I am my own master."

"You are asking the King to withdraw his threats then?" Margaret inquired.

"I am not asking." Responded James, "I am ordering." He said in a menacing voice.

That was how he was. Margaret pondered, smiling sadly. One day he could be cold, hot, the next day he could be amiable only to turn vindictive again. But this was the result of a cultured childhood and a neglected one as well. Before she escaped Scotland with her daughter, Angus had gone as far as to kidnap her son and hold him hostage. Her brother had sent men to help her and she had conferred with Arran who was naturally an enemy of the Douglas clan to help her free her son as well. They did but it was too late. The damage was already done and James was a changed child.

She longed for peace but she knew that her son was a King and he had to do whatever was best for his country.

She warned him but he didn't heed her advice, he was controlled by flattery and adulation so she turned to Marie of Guise, who was a soothing presence on her son and never let others except herself and the Queen influence him.

The Queen spoke, resting her hand on his. "My love, your mother is right. It would be best if we give your Uncle the treatment he deserves in another way, one that will hurt him more."

James raised a curious eyebrow. "How?" He asked; eager to hear her opinion on the subject matter.

"You have your Northern lords and you have your Southern lords and they have all formed factions against you in the past. Why not unite them now when the time is right, against a common enemy. France will support you and so will my family's money but you must openly declare war."

Margaret's hand snapped. No! Her mind screamed. That would be her son's gravest mistake. She had hated Angus when he kidnapped her son and for many years she had been excusing her son's erratic behavior as his doing but this was too much. She was surprised that Marie even suggested it!

"My son, I urge you. Do not do this. England has a mighty you cannot overcome." She warned, "Please James, do not this. This will not bode well and you know it. Marie please, tell him." She turned to her daughter-in-law but she said nothing.

After a long minute of silence that seemed like an eternity to her, James rose from his throne, his hand still held Marie's, and glanced briefly at his mother. "I have made my decision mother. I shall go to war with England. Let it be known the year 1542 shall be the year of reckoning." He announced and his scribe wrote everything he said down.

It would take him one year but he would raise an army so powerful that it would guarantee him the victory that his father could never attain. Victory over England.

* * *

February eighteenth of '41 was a day of remembrance for the entire royal family. His Majesty remembered his fallen daughter, Her Majesty remembered nothing more but the late York Queen who'd taken her daughter's soul and turned it black to satisfy hers and Lady Derby's little whims.

Ned found little comfort, getting lost in his work and every time the courtiers would pass him by to express their condolences and their good wishes to their family and how much they remembered their good Princess of Kent, Ned would ignore them. He found it a nuisance. Life was for the living.

There was a knock on his door and he said "Enter" before his majordomo could ask him if he should answer the door.

"Thomas, what are you doing here?" Ned asked, blinking in surprise, turning to face his younger brother.

Thomas gave him a small smile and sat in the chair facing him across from his desk. "I came to tell you that your youngest son has just recuperated from the pox."

"And?"

Thomas blinked. "Don't you at least care to know how your sons fare?"

"No." Ned said, he closed down his book of accounts. "Why are you really here Thomas? Tell me, I don't have all day."

"Ned he is your son for Christ's sake!"

"I know and I don't care." Ned said making his point stomping his foot on the ground and hitting his fist on the desk. "Damn it Thomas are you going to stay there all day gawking at me or are you going to tell me what your real business is here/"

"No you are right, your sons apparently do not matter to their own father. I came here thinking I could reason with you but I see there is no reasoning with you." Thomas stood and left, leaving his brother very stunned.

Their roles had been inverted. It was always Thomas who was the unreasonable one and Ned the reasonable one. How dare Thomas accuse him of being anything other than what he was? He was a courtier and a Princess' consort at that! He was nothing other than what he had been raised to be, the highest man in the land. Since he was young, Ned vowed he would have it all and now that he did, his brother came running to him screaming treason.

What did he know? His brother knew nothing. He was jealous that Ned got his happy ending with Mary while he had to wage war with his own soul after his beloved Bess died days after childbirth. He was happy, very happy. He had everything he wanted, wealth, status, position and heirs to take after his states and titles once he was gone.

Ned was very pleased with himself.

Returning to his business he opened his book of accounts and he scribbled some notes. He wrote his son's name back in his will. Now that he was in good health, he could inherit Wulf Hall and some other lands near his family state as he had always intended. Not realizing that as he scribbled down someone else entered his chambers. It was his oldest son, Jasper, whom he and Mary had been forced to pass up as a Boleyn when they had been lovers while she was still married to George.

"Yes? How can I help you my lord?"

"Your Grace," he bowed then he sat in the chair the Baron of Sudeley had previously occupied. "I wish to remain here at Court for the remainder of the year if that sits well with you."

"It does, it is your decision and you are under the supervision of your lady Aunt and Her Majesty, your decisions rest solely on what they have to say, not me. Now, is that all?"

Jasper blinked twice, gripping her armchair very tightly that his nails dug into the hard wood and he could feel blood dripping from them. "No," he said in a raspy voice. "That is all and thank you, Your Grace."

"For what?"

"For making me see who my true father is ... _was_."

Ned's brow furrowed. Did the boy know? … Before he could ask him Jasper Boleyn turned his back on him and was out the door leaving him utterly alone.

_And it is all my fault_ –he realized.

* * *

The battle was set for November of 1542. The day he promised his people of deliverance came "We will take the Scottish field and pave it with blood. The Tudors have long held a hegemony over Scotland, abusing our alliance with them. We shall take them all!" James screamed.

James ignored his mother's last request. "I beg you there is still time to withdraw your troops."

"No, mother I shall not." He said imperiously and rode forward commanding his twenty thousand Scots.

They met in a field of red roses, the Queen and her co-Regent, the Princess of Wales doing. James did not care.

His Queen was dead. Her miscarriage had been too much for her, it drove her mad. Rejection, anger, and a sense of failure brought her to throw herself from her chambers at Edinburgh where she had been confined after James found out about her madness.

James had nothing to lose now. He only had one daughter. A daughter and nothing else! If he died today his daughter would be Queen, she would have the best councilor in the land.

Scotland would have a Queen and a mighty one at that. Their first Mary, as beautiful and mighty as the Queen of Heaven.

"This is for you" He whispered as he charged.

He was taken by surprise as some of his nobles fled as they saw the mightier force of the English. They beat them in numbers but James told them they beat them in courage. Yet that was not enough to deter them.

"Come down and face me you devil witches!" He screamed at the Princess of Wales and the Queen Regent who stood in clear view. They were both dressed in armor, the Princess of Wales was still wearing her skirts but the Queen looked magnificent in full armor. Her breastplate had the lions of Plantagenet, the Tratasmara eagle, and the Welsh dragon with ruby eyes looking menacingly at him as the Queen smiled sardonically at him.

"This is what you get when you put the devil in the throne." He thought aloud, and then screamed it in such a strong voice that everyone turned their heads to him and he knew he made himself an easy target but he didn't care.

His armies scattered, half of his forces killed, he had nothing else to loose. He would die fighting with his sword in his hand and damn all ye English, he would die speaking his mind!

The blow came to him from behind. James dropped his sword and fell on his knees spitting huge amounts of blood. Nobody heard their fallen King as his remaining armies fled the field. He cried for help, for retribution but nobody came to his aid.

Finally the Queen Regent came riding down with her co-Regent besides her after they cleared the field of bodies.

The King struggled, holding unto to life. He had to face her, he had to see her. He had to tell her what he thought of her and her whole family. She was responsible for him being an orphan so young and being taken by that ambitious man Angus.

"You are the devil." He said, with his back on the grass, his gloved hand on top of his breastplate.

"We both knew this day would come Your Majesty. " Katherine said, still smiling. She gestured Anna to come. The girl showed she had strong nerves, she did not cower or blink at the sight of blood.

"Will she be the next Katherine Madame? Will she be your successor? Her reign then has started like yours Madame, with blood." He spit a mouthful of blood and it landed on his breastplate.

"You brought this on yourself. You Scots are the English devils, the sons England must live without yet it must live with because it has no choice." She turned to Anna. "What is your verdict my lady of Cleves?" She asked her pupil calling her by her old title knowing how much it meant to her.

"Guilty." Anna said swallowing hard as the sword was brought to the King's neck.

That was the end of the King of Scotland. His daughter took the throne the very next day as everyone had already foresaw their King's demise, including the King's mother who wept uncontrollably.

First the husband then the son. There was no justice left in this world.

* * *

Gertrude played with her son Thomas. Next to her were the Princess of Wales and her ladies. The youngest of them, Lady Margaret Boleyn, sat next to the Princess. She inquired on Agnes' reading. Agnes and her step-siblings had finally warmed to each other.

**Three years** had passed since that fateful day at Soloway Moss. The Queen of Scotland was only three years into her reign but she had the best Regent of all, her grandmother.

Gertrude reflected on how much, England and the rest of Christendom had lost since then. For all its Turkish forces, they were not enough to withstand the might of England and the Empire when they invaded France and this time not fully stopping, her Uncle, along with her father and their younger brother, the Duke of Gloucester, Edward Tudor, had marched South into the heart of France.

King Francis had no recourse but to surrender. It was something the King's nephew, the Emperor did not like nor did he desire. He had been conducting secret treaties at Soisons with Admiral D'Hannevault and everything had been going so well until her Uncle, the King marches South.

Now he had two Kings, one Emperor dancing at his every tune.

Gertrude smiled in merriment. Her husband was there fighting the last battles at Bolougne that had recently turned rebellious again, against English domination.

She sent a silent prayer for them.

As the Princess of Wales' ladies recited the latest poetry from renown Court poet, Sir Henry Howard, their heads perked up as they heard the trumpets.

"His Majesty! His Majesty!" Agnes cried putting her book of poetry down, the rest gathered around her as they tried to get a view of His Majesty riding alongside his Queen.

"Did he win?" They asked.

Anna nodded saying a very low "Yes."

"Yes he has won." She repeated, a smile dancing on her lips as she watched her husband riding alongside her father.

It had been almost four years since he had been absent and now he was back. Anna smiled as she saw both King and son advance towards London Borough to the Palace of Placentia, Greenwich.

Yes, she thought. At last he was returning. And at last there would be peace.

The King waved at every spectator. They threw white and red roses at them for York and Lancaster that his dynasty represented through his father's union with Elizabeth of York.

Lady Derby was too sick but she gazed from her window. Like her predecessor, the late Lady Wydeville had surpassed her mark and lived more than a century and today was the culmination of more than sixty years work. "Thank God. Blessed be thy lord, thy Kingdom come." She said crossing herself. A sole attendant saw to her needs and wiped the blood from his mistress' face as she began to cough more violently.

She finished her prayer and thanked the man but chastised him for being so slow. She didn't care if she died today. The Tudors were victorious and they were at the height of their power, she had done her House, the Beaufort house, her husband and son's house, the Tudor House, but most of all she had done her line, the Lancaster line from which Tudors descended, justice.

"Aye all is well." She said to herself, grabbing her handkerchief and covering her mouth as she coughed.

* * *

Ned and Thomas after the Peace of the Red Rose as the King's vanity had made to call it, fought alongside one another in Bologne. Ned longed to be back home, to do his work and served diligently as best he knew. Thomas had been promoted to Lord Admiral and it suited him well since he knew more about war than Ned did, however while his brother was a good warrior, Ned was a good tactician and he always consulted with the best of Generals (unlike Thomas).

He brought another blow to one of the rebels as they came closer to the castle.

Thomas could not understand why the canons had not been firing. They were all men loyal to His Majesty. _Please do not tell me the French bastard has bought them_, thought Thomas more alarmed as the night remained silent with only their screams and the blazing fire from untrained archers, remnants of the French army, fighting them.

Ned parried with one of them. He was toying with him really. The man fought so bad that Ned found himself laughing as he gave the final blow. It came and the man fell to the floor spitting blood. Ned gave another blow and the man's head was severed off.

"Finally" Ned swore, crying victory as the canons began firing. An excess of screams and poor communication they said and Thomas had almost killed them. Ned laughed and waved at his brother as all around them turned to death and they were struck by the sweet aroma of death, smoke, and victory.

"Ned!" Thomas screamed as one of the canons struck his brother. He fell clutching his throat. His legs had been blow off, and his throat cut. Enraged, Thomas threw the imbecile who had blown his brother up, and ran down in spite of the generals' cries that he shouldn't. "My brother is there!" He yelled and seeing the murderous look on their eyes they knew better than to question the Lord High Admiral's orders.

He took his brother's head and placed it on top of his knee. "Brother, you must go on … you must …"

Ned saw his family, his Mary smiling down at him from heaven. His children grown up, what they would become. He wished he could have told them how much he loved them. How much he was sorry for acting the way he did.

He closed his eyes and let death take him.

"No!" Thomas screamed.

They found the Duke of Lancaster and Richmond's legs, they knew they were his for in his brother's vanity he had let Thomas convince him to wear an armour to distinguish them from the rest being gold and with designs of wolves and lions and dragons all around it.

Thomas stood over his brother's body, placed on a kitchen table since they had found no better place to place it on. He steeled himself as he took the miniature that Ned carried underneath his breastplate. It was his "lucky charm" he always said. A picture of Mary and him after they had been married. Her belly round.

He took it and placed it underneath his breastplate. He would show it to his sons and if they didn't want it, he would put it in Ned's casket so he would not be alone when he was buried. Just as he was about to glance away, he saw something peculiar in Ned's neck he hadn't noticed before.

It was sliced open. How? His mind began working. Closing his eyes he recalled there were many soldiers around him, some French but too scared and running back into the town and castle seeking succor from their enemies, and some English.

Who could have done this? Thomas asked, hoping it were the dreaded French. He didn't want to think that one of their own could betray them.

* * *

His body was brought on the twelfth of November of 1545, just three months after the King and Prince and his best generals had returned from their victory in France. (The French King had agreed to give his Northern borders, his most important towns to the dreaded English, with the condition that the English would not disturb the peace East and South of them and that they would not make any attempt to conquer France. England agreed and so a pact was sealed and glory was retored.)

But glory came at a high price for Ned Seymour. His fall had been a great shock for everyone, especially the King and his brothers, the Duke of Somerset and Duke of Gloucester who always thought him invincible.

The Lady Derby had died a day before they could tell her. She had always considered him a man so like her dear Henry. The King was partly glad that she died the way she died, thinking all was well within her family so she would not have to face the pain of knowing that the piece she had thrown in her daughter and the King's path was dead.

* * *

Anne Boleyn smiled as she glanced at the stained glass window of the Church of St. Petersborough where the Duke would be interred next to his wife. The window depicted the struggle of Samson trying to overcome his beloved Delilah. A more vicious smile curved her lips.

Her Grace's sarcophagus had been moved to this Church along with her brother's, George Boleyn, to rest by her beloved.

She had played the passive Delilah, letting the Duke take confidence until the moment came when he was all alone and she had used her money to bribe one of their English soldiers to get close to him and slit his throat while the other fired at him.

Her life's work was complete. Her nephew was Duke and he was going to marry her Bess. And then her youngest daughter, Annie, having been sent to the surviving (now oldest) Seymour brother, the Baron of Sudeley's household; would marry the fallen Duke's older son.

Everything had come full circle.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

The King was an old man and at the verge of death. "Hush, do not cry," said he, taking his lady wife's hand. "Tomorrow our son will be King and what an England he will rule." He said to his wife and she smiled knowing this was true.

Weeks later envoys were sent to the Prince Regent of Wales. He and his wife Anna came as soon as they could thinking they could still see his father alive for a last time but they were too late. King Arthur had passed into the next life and so the reign of the good Catholic monarch ended, and started the one of the next Arthur, third of his name who ruled with a firm but just hand and under his rule freedom of worship and publication was established. His Queen Anna, the girl who had come from so far away to wed him, became the "Queen of Roses".

_Everything _had come full circle.


End file.
